Anne Boleyn: life-death-rebirth path
by Amaranthe Athenais
Summary: Anne Boleyn is sentenced to death, falsely accused of adultery, incest, and treason. By a quirk of fate, she escapes her death and leaves England. The old Anne is dead. The dangerous, rivalrous triangle of Anne, François I, and Henry VIII emerges. Anne carves out a new life-death-rebirth path, with revenge, power, and love in coexistence. There are two Kings for one woman. UPDATED
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first attempt in writing a story about the Tudors. Any reviews are welcome, both the good and the bad. Constructive criticism is always welcome._

_In this story Anne Boleyn was imprisoned in the Tower of London and accused of adultery, incest and high treason. Her brother George Boleyn and three other people were executed, while she watched it from the window of her chamber. Soon Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child; however, it doesn't mean that she is saved, because the King intends to make Anne pay for her crimes and her betrayal. Moreover, the King is determined to marry Jane Seymour as soon as possible, and he also doesn't believe that the child Anne was carrying was fathered by him._

_After the birth of the child, as the French executioner cannot come to London, and for some other reasons, the King decided to burn Anne at the stake, by having her poisoned before the execution to allow her to have more or less a calm death. In the meantime, the plot is such that unexpected people help Anne to leave the Tower of London right before her supposed execution, and as a result the body of another recently deceased woman is burnt._

_Extraordinary events happen, and Anne finds herself in the Republic of Venice and later in France. As she meets King François I of France, she works to become a powerful woman in France, eventually becoming the Queen of France. In England Henry VIII marries Jane Seymour wife and she becomes the Queen of England._

_Anne Boleyn is dead to everybody except for few people. In the indirect sense, Anne Boleyn is indeed dead – she is a new woman now because her near death experience changed her. Her heart is cold and indifferent, aloof and impenetrable. She dreams only of her revenge for her torments to the people who engineered her downfall, including her arrest and her execution._

_What will happen with Anne Boleyn? Will she be able to take her revenge? Will she be seduced by King François I of France? Will she stop loving or hating King Henry VIII? What will happen with Henry and Jane? As you will read the story, you will have an answer to these questions._

_I know that the plot is not something entirely new. However, you will see that it will be indeed different from some other stories in which Anne is imprisoned and finds herself pregnant with the King's child. I want to explore an unusual path for Anne._

_There are many real historical events in the story. These events will be organically embedded into the general story line. Please be aware that some historical events might be changed slightly, but I will let you know about it in advance._

_Please take into account that the story is still in progress. It will take some time to update it as I don't want to write it in a rush. I want it to be an interesting story of high quality._

_Undoubtedly, I don't own any characters and the show. In addition, some heroes were introduced into the story by myself._

_Hope you will truly enjoy the story._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Imprisonment and unexpected gift**

**_May 18, 1536, the Tower of London, London, England_**

_Anne Boleyn, the Queen of England and the Marquess of Pembroke_, was lying on the large wooden bed. Her eyes were closed, and her face had a peaceful expression. The muscles of her face were relaxed, her eyes radiated a muted sparkle, and a vague smile a smile hovered over her lips. She looked as though she had been dreaming about something rather than preparing for her death. Anne resigned to her fate because she knew that there was nothing that could have saved her at that moment. Her breathing was even and steady. For the onlookers Anne seemed to be the embodiment of calmness and placidness, as though she had already died and her facial features had begun to ossify and to freeze. However, it was only visibility a semblance of tranquility. Inside Anne's heart was tearing apart in pain.

Despite the fact that it was already the last month of spring and the summer was approaching, it was a little chilly outside and even in the room, in the Queen's chamber, the Tower's royal apartments, where Anne was locked after she had been arrested and imprisoned. However, it was cold not only in the sense of the weather, but also in terms of the emotional emptiness, fear, and pain that had been filling Anne's heart and soul completely since that fatal day at the beginning of May when she had been imprisoned and later was tried and found guilty on the ground of ridiculous, absurd accusations of incest, adultery, and high treason.

Anne Boleyn was accused of adultery with several courtiers; plotting to murder _King Henry VIII of England_; seducing the King to marry her through witchcraft; and having an incestuous relationship with her brother George Boleyn. In addition, she was also accused of poisoning Queen Catherine and pondering to do the same to Lady Mary Tudor, as well as of laughing at her husband and ridiculing him. Anne was ready to laugh aloud at the charge of her multiple adultery with so many men, which sounded at least suspicious and in true sense ludicrous as the number of her allerged lovers was too high, indirectly stating that it was almost improbable that the Queen, who was always attended by her ladies, could have had so many lovers in strict confidentiality and for so long. The number of the adulterous intercourses and the places where Anne had been incriminated to have committed those sinful acts were ridiculous. In several cases, her supposed paramours were even not at the place where her prosecutors claimed she had slept with other men. All the detailed particulars of Anne's adultery, including that with her own brother, were a product of pure fantasy and falsification, a sheer fiction.

There were no witnesses who could have confirmed that Anne had indeed poisoned Catherine and had tried to do the same to Mary. No substantial and serious facts could have been used to prove that she had been plotting the King's death and that she had murdered Catherine. The charge of witchcraft was introduced to please King Henry because he himself said on several occasions in the aftermath of their arguments that Anne had used sorcery and witchcraft to bewitch him and to push him to marry her. In reality, the witchcraft allegation was a mere excuse for Henry's own behavior, for his passion and his lust which drove him to divorce Catherine. Anne knew that the majority of the criminal trials were more about securing condemnation by due process than analyzing evidence, but her trial proved to be an utterly absurd show with the verdict of her guilt known in advance. The evidence was weak, but the King's desire to dispose of her was insatiable and overwhelming. At the close of the proceedings, the twenty-six peers gave their decision verbally, saying only single word – guilty. Anne was unjustly condemned to be either beheaded or burned at the King's pleasure.

Anne was experiencing a strange combination of feelings – bewilderment, anxiety, concern, fear, and pain. She was bewildered and surprised because she didn't expect that her beloved Henry would have been able to be so cruel and so unforgiving to her. Anne realized that King no longer loved her and had wanted to get rid of her in order to get married to his precious sweet and virtuous Jane Seymour. However, she was still shocked because it was really difficult to believe that Henry had been able to work out such an absurd story and arrest her on those charges.

Her heart was tearing apart from pain. Anne knew that her brother George was dead, as today in the morning she witnessed his execution. To be able to watch it, she had to drag a large wooden trunk to the window. Then she climbed on top of it, and her blue eyes fixed on the crowd near the scaffold. Her vision was not perfect as it was slightly hindered by the X shaped lattices on the small window, but she could anyway see every detail of the execution. Anne remembered how the executioner practiced his strokes several times above George's neck, and then there was the axe flying down in the air – George was headless and dead. Her dear brother George, who was her favorite sibling from the early childhood, was dead, and she no longer would be able to hear his laugh and his teasing. She no longer could rely upon his support and his consolation. The same happened to all other presumable lovers Anne had – _Mark Smeaton_, a talented Flemish musician and Anne's friend; _Sir Henry Norris_, who was a well-known aristocratic courtier; _Sir William Brereton_, a groom of the King's Privy Chamber, and _Sir Francis Weston_ who was a gentleman of the Privy Chamber and had frequent access to the King. They were beheaded and dead; they were murdered by the King of England, in reality being only innocent victims of Henry's cruelty.

Anne was completely alone because even her father Thomas Boleynhad betrayed her. Her ambitious father who had pushed her into Henry's waiting arms eventually abandoned his daughter in her misery. Anne recalled that she saw from her small window how her father Thomas was leaving Tower. At that moment she smiled at him and waved her head. She wanted to feel that she wasn't alone. She wished to feel that she still had a family. She longed to see a sincere, warm smile on her father's face or to have a nod or a wave – she needed it as an act of acknowledgement that her father loved her. But Thomas Boleyn ignored Anne as he just looked at his daughter blankly, with cold eyes, and then left without any indication that Anne was his daughter who was going to die soon. Anne was alone in the world. She wished only to shut the eyes to sleep for a while and later to wake up, realizing that it had been only her wild nightmare; however, it was a cruel reality, and nothing could have been changed at that moment.

While Anne was lying on the bed in the Queen Chamber, _Thomas Cranmer, a leader of the English Reformation and Archbishop of Canterbury_, was standing near the door to her room. He was hesitating as he didn't know how he would be able to face Anne Boleyn now. However, it was his duty to announce that her marriage to King Henry had been annulled by him. Master Cranmer was convinced that Anne was innocent and that the King had murdered four innocent people. However, what could he do? How could he save Anne? Cranmer comprehended that the King wished wholeheartedly to get rid of Anne, convincing himself of her guilt and in her betrayal with those executed men. Unfortunately, Cranmer could do nothing. So he only sighed heavily and went inside the room.

As Cranmer entered the room and as Anne noticed his presence, she momentarily rose to her feet from the bed. Anne smiled with a welcoming at the Archbishop. She had always viewed his as a friend, and nothing has changed even now when she had been condemned to death. Anne stepped forward to the Archbishop, closer to the door.

Anne's ladies remained in distance, watching her and Cranmer. During her brief time in the Tower, Anne was attended by five women who had served either _Catherine of Aragon_ or her daughter, Mary Tudor. The ladies were chosen by Thomas Cromwell. These ladies were _Lady Mary Kingston, _the wife of _Sir William Kingston, the Lieutenant of the Tower_; two of Anne's aunts – _Lady Anne Shelton_ who was the elder sister of Thomas Boleyn_,_ and _Lady Elizabeth Boleyn_ who was the wife of the eldest brother of Anne's father; _Lady Margaret Coffin_, the wife of Anne's Master of the Horse, and _Lady Eleanor Hampton_. They task was to report to Sir William Kingston all that Anne said. In turn, Kingston reported everything to Thomas Cromwell.

Archbishop Cranmer looked at Anne. "My Lady, I must tell you that your marriage to the King has been annulled." He averted his gaze as he said that.

Anne's heart missed a beat. She didn't expect it. "On what grounds?" Her voice sounded unfamiliar and far away.

Crammer still couldn't look at Anne. "On the grounds of your close and forbidden affinity to another woman, who was known carnally by the King."

Anne felt a sharp pain in the region of her heart. Fear and shock entwisted each cell of her body more and more deeply, tauter and tauter, but she didn't show her weakness to Cranmer. "My sister," she said shortly. Her lips twitched slightly. "Then my daughter is…" she murmured thoughtfully and paused.

Cranmer emitted a new heavy sign. He felt guilty as he had to inform Anne about an annulment of her marriage. "Yes, your daughter Elizabeth is to be declared a bastard," he commented sorrowfully.

Anne shut her eyes for a moment, trying to regain composure, but everything was in vain. Why was Henry so cruel to her? She loved him with all her heart, more than everything in the world. He didn't allow her even to die in shaky peace as she knew what would follow after the declaration of her dear daughter a bastard. Henry's cruelty had no limits. Anne straightened her spine. No, she wouldn't show her weakness to Archbishop Cranmer and Sir William Kingston who had also approached them. Master Kingston was reporting her every action and her each word to King Henry and to Cromwell, and she didn't want them to see her pain and distress.

Anne glared at Cranmer, then at Kingston. She raised her chin. Her beautiful almond-shaped blue eyes were blazing in something mysterious. "Oh, I see," she said humbly.

Cranmer felt shiver running along his spine. He was astonished with Anne's calmness and self-control in those terrible minutes. "Madame, I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to support and protect Elizabeth and to keep her always in the King's good, kind graces."

Anne's gaze turned more intensive, but her eyes were kind. "Thank you," she replied genuinely.  
Anne knew that now it was time for her last confession. She wanted Master Kingston to be able to hear it because it left her with a small chance that even after her death people, probably including the King, would learn about her innocence.

"And now since my time approaches, I beg your Grace to hear my confession," Anne spoke calmly. "Also, I should like the Constable to stay here when I receive the good Lord." She wished Kingston to report her confession to the King.

Master Kingston only bowed. "Madame," he replied in agreement.

As Archbishop Cranmer took a seat, Anne knelt before him. As she looked at him, Cranmer's heart began hammering harder and harder. She looked so beautiful and so vulnerable at that very moment, so calm and so sincere. He was amazed and enthralled by Anne's behavior, her stamina, and her will power.

"My child, do you have a confession?" Cranmer asked.

Anne bent her head low. "Yes," she answered and lifted her head. "I confess my innocence before God. I solemnly swear on the damnation of my soul that I have never been unfaithful to my lord and my husband, nor have ever offended with my body against him. I do not say that I have always bore the humility towards him of which I owed him, considering the kindness and great honor he showed me and the great respect he always paid me. I admit too that I have often taken it into my head to be jealous of him." She trailed off for a moment and sighed. She recalled how jealous she was when Henry took many mistresses during their short matrimony. Indeed, anger was boiling in Anne's heart as she loved him and wanted him to be faithful to her. "But God knows and as my witness, I have not sinned against him in any other way. Think not I say this in the hopes of prolonging my life. God has taught me how to die and he will strengthen my faith." Her voice was a little shaking. She sighed and went on. "As for my brother…" She wanted to say that he was innocent, but decided to keep silent. She would be graceful and cautious in her words. She sighed and continued. "And those others who were unjustly condemned, I would have willingly suffered many deaths to save them. But since I see it pleases the King, I will willingly accompany them in death. With this assurance, I shall lead an endless life with them in peace." Her voice was a little cracking.

Anne leaned her head down again as she finished her confession. Her ladies around them were crying. They also didn't believe that their mistress was guilty in the charges ascribed to her.

Cranmer drew a deep, agonizing breath. Then he blessed Anne with a cross on her forehead. "Master Kingston, please go and make sure to report my lady's last confession so the world will know it."

Master Kingston rose to his feet and bowed. "I will," he said. But he lied because he was going to come to Cromwell and report the confession to him. Cromwell obliged him to report to him about all Anne's actions and words before Cromwell himself reported about them to the King.

That night was the night before Anne's execution that was scheduled for tomorrow's morning. For Anne that night was sleepless as she was sorting out her thoughts and silently preparing to die. She was remembering her early youth: her happy childhood at Hever Castle with Mary, George, her mother Elizabeth and her father Thomas. At that time, her relations with her father were very caring, a pure relationship of a father and a daughter; but it was a long time ago, and now everything was different. Anne remembered the years she spent at the court of _Archduchess Margaret von Habsburg, Princess of Asturias and Duchess of Savoy by her two marriages, and the Governor of the Habsburg Netherlands_. At Thomas Boleyn's request, Archduchess Margaret agreed to take Anne, the small girl at that time, as one of her eighteen _filles d'honneur_ in 1513. Margaret immediately put Anne to study under a French tutor in order to learn French and to master sophistication of the court life. Anne liked to be on the side of Archduchess Margaret, making herself useful to her on every possible occasion. She was eager to share in the intimate society of the court and to join various kinds of the court entertainment. In the Low Countries, she plunged into the whirl of elaborate dances, festivities, tournaments, and hunting.

Although Anne liked her time in Netherlands, she loved much more the happy time she spent at the French court where she became a lady-in-waiting for _Queen Claude of France_, _King François I's_ young wife. Anne was still very young when she was brought to the French court, but many events firmly embedded into her memory forever because those years were the golden years of her early youth. Anne Boleyn stayed with Queen Claude for nearly seven years, during which she spent the majority of time in the Upper Loire at Amboise and at Blois where the Queen of France usually resided. At the French court, Anne continued to live in the sophisticated atmosphere of the Renaissance intelligence and splendor around her, finding it more elaborate, more enchanting, and deeper as compared to Archduchess Margaret's court. Although Anne's countrymen boasted of their achievements, England still didn't have the greatness of the intellectual Renaissance environment which the Low Countries and France had in abundance, and at the French court young Anne understood that.

In France, Anne acquired excellent knowledge of the Renaissance culture and the court etiquette, embracing French coquetry and infamous French courtesy. She also completed her study of French and cultivated interests in fashion, religious philosophy, art, poetry, and literature. Anne developed her musical outstanding ability as she knew perfectly how to sing, to play the lute and other musical instruments. If she was an Amboise with the Queen, Anne often saw Leonardo da Vinci who came to settle at Cloux, a place just outside Amboise, in 1516 at the invitation of King François; after she left France for England, she frequently thought that it was a huge mistake that she didn't try to become closer with Leonardo who was the man of the greatest intelligence and intellect. Although life with Queen Claude was much less public as the Queen spent much time in seclusion during her annual pregnancies, Anne still had contact with the French courtiers and spent some time at festivities and tournaments. With great pleasure, Anne remembered her conversations with _King François I's_ sister, _Marguerite d'Angoulême_, at that time Duchess d'Alençon and at present the Queen of Navarre, who was a patron of humanists and reformers and a talented author in her own right. The supporter of religious reform, Marguerite encouraged a multitude of discussions on religious topics in her entourage, and Anne was an active participant and was much influenced by that chatting.

Anne stretched her legs across the bed, feeling that her body stiffened from being in the same pose for a long time. She blinked and swallowed hard, suppressing the slight sobs that rose in her low throat. Then her memory reproduced her time with King Henry when he fell in love with her and she fell in love with him over time, their long and romantic courtship, and Henry's countless love professions and oaths. Anne smiled as she remembered the birth of their dear daughter Elizabeth, but then the smile vanished from her face as Henry's disappointment with the birth of the healthy daughter came to her mind. She recalled her two miscarriages, and the circumstances of her second miscarriage flashed in her mind. She thought that even after her death she would never forget the pool of hot red blood on her white nightgown and the reprobative, cruel gaze of Henry's aquamarine eyes when later he came to the Queen's suite and accused her of losing their son. A new tide of pain transfixed her heart, and Anne felt that tears were streaming down her pale cheeks. She automatically brushed them away with her palm.

It was her last night, and Anne was going to die. She was planning her execution speech, imagining how she would ascent the steps of the scaffold and how the executioner would chop her off by the French cold steel. She was sure that she would find eternal peace after her death, together with her beloved brother George and her other innocently executed friends. She began to pray for the safety of Elizabeth from Henry's wrath and for the repose of the souls of the executed and unjustly condemned men, including her dear brother George. She was burnt-out and devastated because she didn't want to die, leaving her dear little Elizabeth motherless in such a young age. She also knew that Henry would be highly unlikely to favor Elizabeth and as a result the child would be alone in the whole world. God, please help my dear Elizabeth, she prayed. She loved her dear daughter so much because she was one of the few joys in her life. As she was praying, her heart was more and more paralyzed with pain and cold and fear. She was ready to accept her death, but in reality she didn't want to die. Yet, she was condemned to death, and there was no other way to avoid it, she mused. She would die with dignity, showing all her enemies all her strength and will power even in her death.

Suddenly, Anne screamed loudly as she felt a warm sticky liquid somewhere on her tights. She sat in the bed and looked down at her white cotton nightgown. She gasped for air as there was blood everywhere. She screamed aloud again, horror and fear overcoming all her essence. Her cries sounded like balm poured into a festering, intolerably painful wound of heart and soul – heart and soul in grey ash. Her screams of horror were so loud and so piercing, so full of both shock and pain, and it was undoubted that those people who heard them would never forget that moment.

Anne's ladies rushed to her side, their faces expressing confusion and horror as they saw blood on the bed and on Anne's nightgown. Their faces turned frightened as they saw deathly pale Anne as the blood drained from her face.

"Oh my Lord, we must find the physician," Lady Eleanor Hampton, one of her ladies, cried out.

"What is going on?" Lady Anne Shelton questioned.

"We must find the physician," Lady Elizabeth Boleyn's worried voice resonated.

Anne didn't hear them. She sank back against the pillows and shut her eyes. Nausea crashed her down, and she was waggling and trembling in her whole body. She glared down at blood on her nightgown and stared at the ladies. Then her eyes closed. Complete darkness enveloped her, and she lost her conscience.

"I think she is with child," Lady Margaret Coffin assumed.

"It looks like a miscarriage," Lady Mary Kingston presumed as her eyes registered spot of blood on Anne's nightgown. "I will report to Master Kingston what happened."

"But how is it possible? Wasn't she examined by the midwife when she was arrested?" Lady Elizabeth Boleyn questioned, her eyes wide in astonishment.

"It is evident that she wasn't examined. There was no word said about Lady Anne's delicate condition. I think she didn't know about her pregnancy," Lady Margaret Coffin parried.

"Ladies, we will discuss it later. Now we must help Lady Anne," Lady Eleanor Hampton said.

Lady Anne Shelton looked at the ladies. "Take care of her while I will fetch the physician." Then she quickly walked in the direction of the door.

* * *

**_May 19, 1536, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England_**

The bleak rays of spring sun illuminated the white ashlar stone walls of _the Palace of Whitehall_, which had been the main residence of _King Henry VIII_ in London starting from 1530. The hands of the cloak had recently measured seven in the morning, several hours before Anne Boleyn's execution. The court was quite lively even at those early hours as everybody was in anticipation of the fateful events scheduled to happen on that day.

King Henry wasn't sleeping. His servant urgently awoke him less than thirty minutes ago. The King planned to sleep at least till nine in the morning and to awake when Anne would already be dead. However, his plans were broken by Cromwell's urgent visit. Henry felt as anger began to simmer in his veins when the servants told him that _Thomas Cromwell, Secretary of State, Chancellor of the Exchequer and Master of the Rolls_, who was soon to be raised to the peerage as _Baron Cromwell of Wimbledon_, had come here to visit the King and had been waiting for him.

With much effort and very reluctantly, Henry climbed out of his large bed and called for his servant. He told the servant what he wanted to wear on that day. He wanted to be seen in the vibrant colors on the day of the Harlot's execution, prohibiting himself to wear the mourning. He chose the white silk shirt with the stand up collar with attached small ruff and the crimson brocade doublet with leopard slashings, laced in the front and trimmed with rubies and diamonds on the bosom and on the sleeves. Then the King pulled in the crimson brocade straight pants and put on his head the black flat cap adorned with one white ostrich. The King also put on the long golden and rubies chain on his neck and clasped near the collar of the doublet the beautiful, intricately designed crowned Tudor rose badge.

Soon King Henry left his bedchamber and marched to the Presence Chamber, accompanied by his guards. Henry was passing many courtiers, and each of them bowed to the King who only acknowledged a couple of them by the slight nod of his head. Henry was abstracted in his thoughts from everything at the court. He didn't understand why Cromwell visited him so early. It had to be something extraordinary urgent if Cromwell decided to ignore the official royal protocol strictly regulating the rules and the hours of the reception by the King.

King Henry stormed into the Presence Chamber and noted Cromwell sitting on the sofa near the window. Cromwell leapt to his feet and bowed to the King. Henry nodded and began pacing the room like a caged animal. The King was very nervous. Henry stopped near the fireplace and turned to Cromwell. He stared at the Secretary of State.

"What happened, Master Cromwell? Why did you come here so early on this day?" His voice was edged with rage.

Cromwell sighed heavily. "Your Majesty, I am sorry, but we are having a great problem."  
Henry blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Lady Anne Boleyn is with child," Cromwell replied in a neutral voice.

"What? What?" Henry raised his voice. His eyes grew wide.

"Lady Anne is with child," Cromwell repeated in a sonorous voice. "The Tower physician confirmed it today in the late night. She nearly miscarried. Now she is fine and resting."

Henry wasn't listening to Cromwell. He was silently cursing that the new circumstances were opened and that he would most likely have to postpone his wedding to his beloved Jane. Why did Anne get pregnant now? Why did it happen now? Why would he have to wait several months more to marry Jane? Henry felt that he was going mad. Anne had never loved him. She played with him, like with a toy, and she made him fall in love with her only in order to please herself and her family and to raise the status of the Boleyn family. Anne lied to him that she had been a virginal girl when he had been going crazy from love and passion and when she had said that she would lose her innocence only with her husband. Her father Thomas Boleyn and her brother George Boleyn arranged everything to capture Henry under Anne's spell, in her bed and in the marriage. Anne was a witch, a whore, and a bitch, Henry said to himself. She was a harlot.

In order to marry Anne, Henry had to dispose of _Catherine of Aragon_, his first wife, which he did it in rather cruel manner, and he knew about that. He declared his daughter with Catherine – Lady Mary Tudor – a bastard, and now his relationship with his daughter was in tatters. To divorce Catherine, Henry had to tear the whole country apart because _Pope Clement VII_ didn't grant so much desired annulment of his marriage to Catherine. Henry's struggles with Rome led to the eventual separation of the Church of England from the papal authority, as well as to the Dissolution of the Monasteries under the project of Master Cromwell and Henry's own establishment as the Supreme Head of the Church of England.

Henry genuinely loved Anne. At least he himself thought that he had loved her. He also believed that Anne had also loved him from the bottom of her heart. He married her, and what was the result? The King was made a laughingstock of the whole Europe when Anne gave birth to Elizabeth in September 7, 1533. It was a girl, not a boy! And the girl was useless for Henry who was dreaming of having a son for many years. Henry was sure that only a boy could guarantee the successful succession and the continuation of the Tudor royal dynasty. Later Anne had two miscarriages, which infuriated Henry, resulting in his hatred for Anne. The miscarriage of a male child, of almost four months gestation, which happened in January 1536, enraged Henry, especially when Anne accused him that it was mainly his fault as she had seen him with Jane Seymour on his knees and, being distressed, had lost their son. Henry saw Anne's failure to give him a son as a betrayal. Later he realized that Anne had betrayed him with at least four arrested men, including her own brother. It made Henry sick of Anne – he wanted her to die and to pay for her crimes.

Anger was simmering in Henry's bloodstream. "I want Anne Boleyn to die. She betrayed me. She is a traitor." Henry paused and turned around. His clenched his fists for a moment. Then he swung around again to face Cromwell. "I want her to die," he repeated. "She must pay for her crimes."

"Your Majesty, under the laws of England and in accordance with the principles of humanism we cannot execute a pregnant woman," Cromwell asserted. It was a dark irony to hear about humanism from him, but even he was unable to execute a woman with child, especially a child who, he was sure, was a child of royal blood, being fathered by the King. Cromwell realized pretty well the absurdity of all accusations against Anne. Now he only hoped that she would miscarry at the Tower or that she would deliver a stillborn child. "What are we going to do now?"

The King resumed pacing the room at the speed of velocity. He felt a lethal mixture of emotions – outrage, pain, bewilderment, and disappointment. How could it be that she was carrying a child? How was it possible that it became known only on the night before her execution? Was it a cruel joke of fate or a dark irony? Was Heaven laughing at him?

The King paused in the middle of the room. "Anne Boleyn has always been a good actress. Are you sure that she is with child?"

Cromwell nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. The physician and the midwife confirmed it."

King Henry blinked. "Very well then," he hissed. He was dumbfounded and shocked.

Cromwell didn't want to admit the hesitation with the King's verdict. He was a man of action, so that he spoke in a steady, resolute voice. "Your Majesty, we will have to wait till the birth of the child. Then we will proceed to the execution."

"This child can be the product of incest." Henry's face screwed up in disgust. However, he also remembered that he had spent in Anne's bed several nights in both March and April, but he quickly put those thoughts aside. It wasn't possible, he mused. He will have a bunch of legitimate children with his beloved Jane, beautiful and obedient, an ideal wife for him.

"It can also be the child fathered by Sir Henry Norris, Mark Smeaton, or Sir William Brereton," Cromwell added. He needed to support the King's belief in those things.

"Anne is a witch," the King roared. Then he lowered his voice. "I was seduced by witchcraft when I married her." He trailed off and rubbed his temples. "And now this child… It seems to me that I need to postpone my marriage to Lady Jane Seymour."

"Your Majesty, I can only agree with you. It will be better if you marry Lady Jane after Lady Anne's execution. In this case, nobody will ever doubt the legitimacy of your marriage to Lady Jane and the legitimacy of all your children born in this matrimony," Cromwell assured.

The King cast an appreciating gaze at Cromwell. He has always liked him for this clear and logical reasoning. "Then we will need to wait," he said.

The decision was made up, and the clock began counting minutes.

* * *

**_October 1, 1536, the Tower of London, London, England_**

After her execution was postponed till the birth of her child, Anne Boleyn spent all those months at the Tower of London in utter hell. Although she was staying in the Queen Chambers where the Queens were supposed to stay before the official coronation, it was anyway not very convenient to spend her whole time there when she was pregnant and her pregnancy was so difficult. Anne had to spent all the time inside the same room, although she wanted fresh air, but she was never allowed leave the room even to have a short stroll outside in the Tower. Anne was a prisoner waiting for her death.

Naked, uncontrollable, harrowing pain slashed across her features as Anne remembered how Master Kingston visited Anne's chamber the next morning after Anne had nearly miscarried. His face blank, but his eyes sympathetic, Kingston told Anne that her execution was only delayed till the birth of her child, and then he left her. Henry was so cruel that he wanted to strip her from not only from their daughter Elizabeth, but also from this unborn child in her womb. She realized that the King hadn't believed that he was the child's father, thinking that the poor innocent baby was a product of Anne's alleged shameful relationships with the executed men.

Two months ago, Master Kingston told Anne that Sir Thomas Boleyn, Anne's father, had rejected the single opportunity to become the legal guardian of the child. The King also said that he wouldn't be responsible for the child that was the result of the shameful, sinful coupling between Anne and her supposed lovers. It was unexpected for Anne that Mary Boleyn Stafford, Anne's elder sister, had asked Henry to become the guardian of the child. As Anne learnt about it several months ago, she was sobbing for an hour as she felt guilty that she had betrayed her elder sister when she banished Mary from the court after Mary had got married to William Stafford, a commoner and a soldier, a poor man without money and status. Now Anne felt some relief that Mary and her husband would take care of her child. At least the child would still have family after her death, Anne thought.

Master Kingston also confided to Anne that her sister Mary had personally wanted to beseech King Henryto spare Anne after the birth of her child. However, as soon as she mentioned why she came to the King, she was accompanied with the guards outside _the Palace of Whitehall_ and was banished from the court under the reasoning of her blood relation to the traitor – the former Queen of England Anne Boleyn. From one of her ladies who were staying with her, Anne learnt that Mary had sent several petitions both to Cromwell and to the King, imploring them at least to send Anne to nunnery, but not to execute her on the scaffold. However, everything was in vain.

It was a normal practice that all female prisoners were examined by a midwife before executions. It was necessary to know whether a woman was with child because in case of her pregnancy she couldn't have been executed under the English law. However, it was not Anne's case, and that simple principle was ignored by her maulers and captors. Anne surmised that Thomas Cromwell had deliberately disregarded that practice as he feverishly wished to execute the former Queen. It also made Anne very angry at King Henry, and she wondered whether it had ever occurred to him that she could have been carrying his child after several nights in March and at the very beginning of April when he had bedded her last time. Did Henry become such a monster who was willingly ready to execute a pregnant woman? Or was it Cromwell's idea, without the King's knowledge? The single thought that Henry wished to execute a woman with child, his child, filled her heart with ardent hatred for Henry.

That pregnancy was extremely difficult for Anne. Anne was afraid that she would be unable to carry the child to the term, but despite all the difficulties and heartache no miscarriage happened so far. She constantly felt very weak, and nausea was often assaulting her even at the late stages of her pregnancy, which was quite unusual for her. She explained the difficulties by the poor conditions at the Tower and her deep emotional stress. She was desperately craving for green apples as it had happened to her in the past when she was with child, but Master Kingston said that it was impossible to give her apples at the Tower. Anne only sighed in response as she could do nothing else. At the beginning of her imprisonment and after the realization of her condition, she protested that she must have been given special food that was rich of vitamins, easy to digest, and necessary to make the child stronger, but she was refused on the grounds that Thomas Cromwell didn't give any instructions to improve her conditions. The above made Anne hate King Henry even more than she had ever hated him before; she felt that she despised and loathed Henry, a lethal combination of feelings she had never had for him before. Anne was just a miserable prisoner, the former Queen who was stripped of all her titles, disgraced, and sentenced to death. She was the Harlot and the Whore who was hated by the common people of England and who had enemies everywhere. Of course, such an evil and notorious woman didn't deserve to be given apples and better food during her pregnancy, she thought ironically.

Anne spent the majority of her time in the bed. She was reading the books which were sent to her by Archbishop Cranmer. At times she was talking to her ladies about her past life at the French court and at Archduchess Margaret's court in the Low Countries. The ladies liked talking with Anne as she was a rarely intelligent female companion. In addition, the ladies deeply sympathized to Anne, understanding that she was most likely innocent, as she had said during her last confession to Cranmer.

During those dreadful months she had spent in the Tower, waiting for her death, Anne Boleyn often remembered her love story with King Henry. She remembered how her great romance began and how everything ended: it began in heave and ended in tatters as she was removed from paradise and thrown to hell with no way back to paradise. When Anne recalled how tender, caring, and loving Henry was to her in the past, her heart was almost collapsing in explosion from pain and heartache. It was astounding, but Anne still couldn't understand how Henry could have been so tender one time and then so cruel another time. Was the cruelty always hidden in his heart? Was it the absolute power that corrupted Henry and changed his character so much? Was it Anne's fault that Henry had become a heartless and cruel man even to people who truly loved him? Anne knew that she pushed Henry, directly and indirectly, to change England in so many ways and to change their lives for her own sake and for the sake of her family, and those things gave Henry the sweet taste of absolute power which no other English King had ever had before. That absolute power transformed the man she loved from the caring, tender, and loving man to the cool-blooded and empty-hearted tyrant. Anne had a plenty of the lightest and the darkest memories about Henry, and every thought about their past was painful and distressful, tragic and tantalizing, making her heart skip a beat as the images of Henry and herself replayed in her mind. Reminiscing her past was as hard as iron for her agonizing soul.

At first, Anne didn't love King Henry, and it was only a matter of helping her family to receive some gains and benefits from the King of England. When her father Thomas Boleyn told Anne to attract the King's attention, she set herself in the King's way. It was a kind of game for Anne, who was a beautiful, enigmatic, alluring seductress, worshiping love and passion as much as the French did. Anne was astounded how quickly Henry fell for her and began to make clear hints what he wanted from her – to become a royal mistress. She wasn't a stupid girl and didn't want to just become his lover who would surely be supplanted by another mistress as soon as the King was tired of her. Thus, Anne denied Henry what he wanted, and she fiercely repudiated his proposal to become his official _maîtresse en titre_, the only woman in the royal bed. While Anne denied him, she also hinted at what he could have, never giving it to him. She was playing in her own game and in the game of her family, but it was so only in the beginning.

Anne's feelings for Henry started changing when he began to court her without trying to put her in his bed. He treated her more like a person and a woman he loved than a new mistress to warm his bed. They had a beautiful courtship that was sensitive, romantic, and long. It was fair to say that their fairy-tale love story began not at the court, but rather at Hever Castle, in Kent, where Anne was raised and spent her childhood with Mary and George. Hever was a romantic shrine to Anne and her love affair with Henry. Anne still remembered how many times the royal page came to Hever and brought to her numerous love letters in which Henry expressed his feelings for her nobly and chivalrously, writing to her numerous sensitive words and love poems. In addition, Henry often left the court for the seclusion of Hever Castle where he and Anne talked about art, literature, politics, and the problems of the kingdom, surrounded by nature. The more time they spent together, the more interested in the King of England Anne became. Henry was so persistent and so passionate for such a long time that Anne didn't notice that she had fallen in love with him. She ignored her father and her Uncle's warnings that she shouldn't have fallen in love with Henry. She didn't think about her sister Mary's heartache when she had fallen in love with the King and was later discarded along the many other women who once were the King's mistresses. All Anne knew was that she loved him and only him. Everything seemed to be perfect because their amorous feelings were reciprocal. As Anne realized that she had loved Henry with all her heart, she had thought that their love with him had been too deep, too sincere, too passionate, and even too obsessive at times. She had been sure that they owned each others' bodies, hearts, and souls. She had been dreaming that their love had been a feeling of a lifetime, eternal love such as the celebrated troubadours of Languedoc had glorified through the ages.

The idea of an annulment of the marriage to _Catherine of Aragon _was suggested to King Henry by the supporters of the Boleyns and the Howards, which was motivated by the King's desire for a male heir to secure the future of the Tudors as a ruling royal dynasty in England. Before Henry's father _King Henry VII of England_ ascended the throne, there was complete chaos in England for many years, a civil warfare over the claims to the throne from the House of York and the House of Lancaster. Henry desperately wanted to avoid a similar uncertainty over the succession after his death, and the Boleyns played on that. Anne used that moment as well because she loved Henry and because she wanted to be the Queen of England. She was an ambitious and cunning woman, but it was also true that she also loved the King and didn't just fake her feelings for her own advantage and the benefits of her family. Anne and Henry assumed that an annulment could be obtained within several months, but they were mistaken.

Once Henry suggested to Catherine that she should have quietly retired to a nunnery, but she opposed him, saying that she had been the King's only true and legitimate wife and that her place was at his side. The matter of an annulment was put into the hands of Cardinal _Thomas Wolsey_, who did all he could to secure a decision in Henry's favor. However, the Pope had no intention of allowing a decision to be reached in England and ordered his legate to be recalled in England. Months and years were passing, but no annulment or divorce happened. Catherine also had a great support of her deal from her nephew _Holy Roman Emperor Charles V_, which additionally made the deal more complicated by advising the Pope against an annulment. Not hoping to receive an annulment officially from the Pope, Henry finally broke with the Catholic Church and was promulgated the Supreme Head of the Church in England. When the old Archbishop of Canterbury _William Warham_ died, Thomas Cranmer, the supporter of the Boleyn family and the Reformation in England, was appointed to the vacant position. Thomas Cranmer later annulled Henry's marriage to _Catherine of Aragon_, and the King was finally free to marry Anne. The deal of an annulment of Henry's marriage to Catherine became euphemistically known as the "_King's Great Matter_."

When King Henry and Anne met _King François I of France_ in _Calais_ in October 1532, they fell into temptation and made love to each other during one of the nights. When they returned to England, Anne soon discovered that she became pregnant by Henry. They were overmastered with happiness and hoped that she was carrying a son Henry desperately wished to have throughout so many years. After an annulment of his marriage to Catherine, Henry secretly married Anne. She was crowned the Queen of England with the silence in the streets because people hated her and pitied Catherine whom they considered to be the true Queen of England. Anne didn't bother herself that she was hated by the common people of England because she had finally gotten what she wanted after seven years of anticipation. Henry loved her and she loved him. What could have been better than she had managed to achieve? At that time Anne didn't think that she was doing something wrong because she truly believed that Henry's marriage to Catherine was null and void.

Catherine had a strong support for her cause. People who supported her included _Thomas More_, Henry's own sister _Mary Tudor, Queen Dowager of France_, _Emperor Charles V_, _Pope Paul III_, and others. The majority of English courtiers had always supported _Catherine of Aragon_ whom King Henry wished to toss aside in favor of a younger woman whom he had courted for many years, parading her right in front of Queen Catherine and humiliating the true Queen of England, as the courtiers thought. Courtiers started to disdain and to blame Anne, even going so far as to suggest that she had bewitched Henry. Anne still didn't understand how people could have been so naive to even think that she could have ordered the King of England to annul his marriage to Catherine if he hadn't wanted that by himself. They thought that she was an evil woman and the only reason that it had happened that the saint Queen Catherine had been discarded and that her daughter Mary had been bastardized. People didn't wish to understand that if Henry hadn't wanted that, he would have never declared Lady Mary Tudor to be illegitimate. If Henry hadn't wanted to punish Mary for her disobedience as she hadn't wished to accept her illegitimate status and to sign the Oath, he would have never demanded from Mary to serve Elizabeth at Hatfield. It looked like courtiers and the common people of England hated Anne for the things she couldn't have made alone because she didn't have complete control over Henry's mind and his decisions. All what Henry committed he did because he wanted to do those things and because he himself believed that his marriage to Catherine had never been valid in the eyes of God and law. The Boleyns pushed him to do many things, but Henry was the King of England and his final decision was only his, not the decision of Anne, her father, or anybody else. Yet, it was Anne who was hated by the courtiers and by the common people for what they blamed her to cause, not looking into the core of the matter. But none of that mattered for Anne at that time because she loved Henry, had the King's love and was carrying his child after the visit to _Calais_.

When Anne gave birth to Elizabeth, Henry was disappointed with the gender of the child. Anne still remembered how Henry had come to her chambers and how frustrated he had been that Anne had given birth to a girl. Anne said that that she was sorry and Henry replied that they had been young enough to have more children. Then Henry left her chambers, and all sad thoughts disappeared from Anne's mind as soon as she looked down at the small bundle in her arms – her precious daughter Elizabeth. She loved her dear Elizabeth with all her heart from the first sight. For Anne her Elizabeth was the most precious girl in the whole country, and she wouldn't have changed her dear daughter for the world. Later Anne miscarried during her second pregnancy, and Henry stopped caring for her. He couldn't bear to look at her and avoided her as much as he could, not willing to be in her presence for longer than fifteen minutes during their rare official dinners. Later Anne got pregnant again, and Henry was overjoyed that there was a chance to have a son again, although he wasn't doting on Anne like he did during her previous pregnancies. And when Anne lost her child again after she had seen Jane Seymour on Henry's lap as they were sharing a kiss in January 1536, Henry even didn't console her.

Henry started hating Anne and blaming her for everything what went wrong in his life and in his kingdom. Finally, he was easily manipulated by Anne's enemies, especially by Thomas Cromwell and probably by _Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk_, who had always hated Anne and often sent to her way numerous looks of loathing. When the Duke of Suffolk married _Catherine Willoughby, 12th Baroness Willoughby de Eresby_, his hatred for Anne deepened tenfold. It was not a secret at the court that the Duchess of Suffolk hated and despised Anne because her mother _Maria de Salinas_ had been a lady-in-waiting to _Catherine of Aragon_ and remained loyal to the woman. Anne even didn't exclude that Charles Brandon's wife had possibly told her husband to destroy her and the Boleyns whenever he had an opportunity. Anne knew that Charles Brandon had always been whispering something negative into Henry's ear to anger him against Anne. Anne didn't doubt that Suffolk had played a role in her downfall because when her influence on Henry had declined, the Suffolk's had increased. At last, the trumped-up charges were fabricated against Anne and several other courtiers, all of them had been murdered at the order of the King.

If only the question about an annulment of their marriage had ever been raised by King Henry, everything would have been different, Anne thought. Why couldn't Henry just tell Anne that he no longer wished to have her as his wife and his Queen? She was an intelligent woman and would have gone from his life quickly and quietly, not risking her own life, the lives of so many innocent men, and not willing to leave her little Elizabeth motherless, if she had known that the King had truly wanted to get rid of her at any price. She would have agreed to an annulment by herself if she had suspected that so many innocent people would have be condemned to death and murdered because of her. Anne would have never followed Catherine's example to fight with Henry so hard because she could have predicted the consequences if she had resisted an annulment. Henry was a man who was obsessed with an idea of having a male heir and would surely do everything possible and impossible to be free of Anne. The way how he treated Catherine proved how far he was willing to go in order to get what he wished, regardless of the hurt his wife and even his own child had in the process. Catherine died in poverty at _the Kimbolton Castle_ and alone while her daughter was bastardized and served at Hatfield at Henry's order. Anne didn't want to have her daughter Elizabeth labeled a bastard, but she would have to step aside in order to save their daughter from having miserable life somewhere in exile at a godforsaken manor in the English countryside and from humiliation Henry would have surely put Elizabeth through if Anne hadn't agreed to have their marriage declared null and void. Thus, Anne would have allowed to be discarded by herself, but it didn't happen because Henry wanted her to die, being murdered by her own husband for the sake of his lust for the new pretty pale face of an undereducated English country girl.

At last, Anne was so exhausted that she even noticed that she was incapable to make herself angry at Henry for what he had done to her and to their children. There were only pain, emptiness, and darkness, which surrounded her and were tearing her heart apart. She was emotionally dead inside her heart and soul, drained of almost all positive and even negative feelings. The roller coaster of pain and depression crushed at her, like the strongest tornado, every time she remembered her arrest, her trial, the executions of her brother and of other innocent men, and her last meeting with Henry in the gardens when she begged him for mercy, but he turned away and left her. How atrocious Henry was and how much he hated her for the fact that she had promised him to have a son and, unfortunately, had failed him. For many other people it sounded ridiculous to hate a woman just for giving birth to a healthy daughter, but it was natural for Anne who became the recipient of Henry's hatred for her in the aftermath of Elizabeth's birth. Henry wanted Anne dead, and there was nothing that could have changed his decisions, not even if the child she was carrying at that moment was a healthy boy. Convinced that she had betrayed him with various men, the King didn't wish to see Anne and even to hear her name, Anne mused. It would be natural if the King had the same attitude to Anne's unborn child, his child. The King would surely assume that Anne's child was a bastard of two traitors, and it was the fact that was the most painful for Anne. There was a little more than a month left till the birth of Anne's child, and the closer was the date of her labor, the more frightened for her future and for her baby's fate Anne was becoming.

* * *

**_November 15, 1536, Woodstock Manor, Oxfordshire, England_**

Former Princess Elizabeth, now Lady Elizabeth, was banished from the court and sent away to Woodstock Manor located in the northwest of Oxford in Oxfordshire, England. The place was especially famous by the fact that Edward, the eldest son of _King Edward III of England_ and heir apparent, was born at Woodstock Manor in 1330 year and was known as _Edward of Woodstock_ during his lifetime.

The life at Woodstock Manor was the life in exile as the residence was quite far from London and _King Henry VIII_ almost never visited the place. King Henry decided to send his small daughter to this place because he didn't want to see her accusing blue eyes and contemplate her natural grace. Moreover, the King didn't intend to contemplate natural grace and magic charm of the small child, who had so much in common with her imprisoned mother.

Elizabeth didn't understand why she was removed from the court. The child didn't comprehend why nobody visited her during the many months. She was alone, only with her governess and some other ladies. Elizabeth knew that things had become different. She noticed that the ladies no longer addressed to her as the Princess, instead often calling her a bastard. Nobody explained to the little girl why she wasn't the Princess and what a bastard meant.

Elizabeth asked her governess Lady Margaret Bryan several times when her mother would come to her. Lady Bryan once told the girl that her mother wasn't the part of this world anymore and that she had done something very wicked. No further explanations followed. Elizabeth missed her mother very much. Many of her dreams were about her mother. The last time when she remembered she saw her parents was the sad moment in the gardens at Hampton Court when her father had been very angry at her mama. Elizabeth recalled that her mother had been crying that time and had been imploring her father to give her another chance. Elizabeth remembered that her mother had been beseeching her father, but he only swung around and left them. Those doleful memories had solidly embedded in her small tender heart.

On her birthday on September 7, 1536 neither her mother nor her father visited Elizabeth. Only Lady Mary came to her and spent the whole day with her half-sister. Lady Mary also brought a small gift to the child – a necklace. That necklace wasn't an expensive thing because at that time Lady Mary didn't have enough money and was still banished from the court. Anyway, Lady Mary loved Elizabeth, even if she hated the girl's mother Anne Boleyn and called her the Harlot and the concubine. Elizabeth was her half-sister, and Lady Mary helped to raise her. In the evening of Elizabeth's birthday Mary left Woodstock Manor. Elizabeth was left alone with her governess and the ladies.

Christmas time was quickly approaching, and the girl still had a vague hope that she wouldn't be alone. When Elizabeth asked whether she would see her parents on Christmas, Lady Margaret Bryan was irritated with the question and answered that her father, the King of England, didn't give any instructions about the time of Christmas. Little girl said nothing, supposing that she would again be alone even on Christmas.

"My mother won't come to me on Christmas, will she?" Elizabeth asked softly.

Lady Margaret Bryan frowned. "Lady Elizabeth, I told you several times that your mother is no longer the part of this world. She will never come to you," she said.

Elizabeth shook her head in disagreement. "I cannot believe. I feel that it is not true." The child felt that her mother wasn't dead. The child seemed to possess great intuition.

Lady Bryan didn't know what to answer. She knew that Lady Anne Boleyn had been imprisoned at the Tower of London, but she also learnt that the execution had been postponed because Anne had been discovered to be pregnant. Anne's pregnancy resulted in many rumors that she wouldn't be executed if she had given birth to a healthy son. Others contradicted that Lady Anne Boleyn, often referred to as the Harlot and as the Concubine, would anyway die because of her crimes against King Henry. As the situation was rather uncertain and immensely unpredictable, Lady Bryan decided to continue the general line by telling Elizabeth that her mother had no longer been the part of Earth. The idea was that if the King released Anne Boleyn, they would decide later how to explain it to Elizabeth.

Lady Bryan furrowed her brows. "Lady Elizabeth, your mother won't come to you," she said simply. Her voice was insistent and even stern. "I also don't think that you father will come on Christmas. He is very busy in London. He is the King."

Elizabeth looked at her governess with an intensive, ever-penetrating gaze. "Thank you for the information, Lady Bryan." The girl made a gracious, deep curtsy and walked away.

Lady Bryan only shook her head. Elizabeth was a unique child, too clever and too intelligent at her age. It wasn't easy to hide something from the girl. She was talking and walking like a girl of royal blood. It seemed that grace, intelligence, strength, pride, and authority were in her blood right from her birth. She was the daughter of King Henry and Anne Boleyn at the first glance.

King Henry was no longer interested in his daughter who had to pay for the crimes of her mother, as he thought, and who was labeled a bastard.

* * *

**_November 21, 1536, the Tower of London, London, England_**

Anne's labor started around the dates she had anticipated since she had leant about her condition. It wasn't a premature labor as more than nine months passed since her last intimate encounter with King Henry, which meant that she had conceived the child not during their last night at the beginning of April, but rather in the second half of March when Henry still visited her bed from time to time, whoring with other mistresses during many other nights and pursuing Jane Seymour in the daytime. Her pains started in the late evening, nearly around midnight. The Queen's chambers were bathing in semidarkness, and only the blaze of several candles illuminated the room. Then Anne's ladies lighted many new candles, placing them at the bedside table, near Anne's bed, and everywhere in the room.

Anne made an attempt to sit on the edge of her bed, but collapsed on top of the covers. She had tried to ignore it, but the pain increased with each hour passed. At times, the pain subsided, only to have it resume a few minutes later. At times, the image of Henry Tudor, the father of her child, took hold like a flame in her mind and then it disappeared, as a new wave of pain attacked her.

"Find the midwife," Anne instructed one of her ladies. Her voice was very weak.

"Yes, my lady, I will," Lady Anne Shelton confirmed as she rushed toward Anne's bed. "I will also notify the physician just in case we need him."

"Yes, please," Anne moaned. She rolled onto her back on the bed, taking in deep, agonizing breaths to try and stop the pain. After a moment she recanted. "Please, do it more quickly. It is hurting so much," she pleaded and then pushed herself up onto the pillows. Lady Anne Shelton pulled the covers up around her. Anne was shivering. Yet, her skin was moist and warm. She was deathly pale. Her blue eyes were clouded, dark circles beneath them.

"I am afraid I will die today," Anne said weakly. "I faced it once before, but it wasn't so painful."

Lady Shelton covered her mouth with her hands to hide her horror. "Oh, my lady, don't say this." Her hands fell away from her face.

Another lady, Lady Eleanor Hampton, approached Anne's bed. "Lady Anne, you must believe that everything will be fine."

Anne put her head back on the pillows. "I don't know," Anne whispered so quietly that her voice vibrated inside her chest. "Lord, please save my child," she prayed.

It was nearly five in the evening of the next day. The delivery process was very difficult and painful. It was time-consuming and even fearful because Anne lost a lot of blood. She was very weak and lost her conscience for a prolonged time twice during the labor. It was completely different from her past labor with Elizabeth. It was painful not only due to Anne's sickly pregnancy, but also because she was emotionally devastated and physically exhausted. She was lonely in her unblessed solitude. Henry wasn't with her to console her and to take away all her fears. Henry had betrayed her as she was sure that while she was fighting for the life of their child, he was spending time with his mistress Jane Seymour. Anne desperately prayed to God to let her child live.

Anne was very weak. She was dying from pain. The child nearly sucked the last ounce of strength from her body, and it still didn't come. Her face was ashen, her eyes closed. She murmured something to herself, then groaned in pain, and then lay quiet for a time. The midwife was shaking her head as she didn't know how to help Anne who seemed to lose all her strengths. Numerous bloodstained cotton sheets were lying in disorder around her bed. She lost quite much blood, but the child still didn't come. Anne often screamed aloud when the pain returned, as though she had been transfixed by a sword or a javelin in many parts of her body. It was pain that tore her body apart and left her sweat-drenched and pleading for her own death and for the life of her child. Sometimes, Anne was loudly calling for Henry in despair, sobbing uncontrollably in pain. At times, crushed with a new strong wave of pain overcoming her body, Anne repeated multiple times that she wanted to die as she could no longer endure that terrible pain.

The midwife advanced from the foot of the bed and examined Anne. She placed her hands onto Anne's swollen belly in order to feel the placement of the child. Anne's ladies stood close to the bed. They looked back at the midwife who muttered something unclear to herself as she continued to move her hands. Anne heard many whispers around herself as he ladies were discussing the progress of her labor and her pains. Their whisperings and lamentations sounded as though a hollow echo marking her death.

"Will she be alright?" Lady Eleanor asked anxiously.

The midwife placed the covers back over Anne and shook her head. "If the child doesn't come soon, neither of them has a chance," she replied sorrowfully.

Lady Eleanor sad on the edge of Anne's bed and squeezed her right hand. "My lady, you must be brave. Gather all your strengths now," she said softly.

"I am dying," Anne cried out. "Henry… Henry…" she called out.

As Anne called King Henry, other ladies shared worried, sorrowful glances.

"Lady Anne, please don't say that you will die," Lady Eleanor said. She ran her right hand across Anne's forehead, brushing back the wet curls of her dark hair from her face.

Anne closed her eyes. She was tired. She could barely breathe. She was bathed in perspiration, and her skin was white, the white of death. "I can go no further," she groaned.

"You can and you will," Lady Eleanor said firmly. "You must live."

"Why should I live? He will anyway have me executed soon," Anne whispered in a low voice, so that only Eleanor heard her.

"My lady, you must cope. You are a very strong woman." Lady Eleanor forced herself to smile to mask her worried expression. "You must go on for your own sake and for the sake of your child."

"Lord, save my child," Anne muttered under her breath. She gritted her teeth as the pain returned.

Finally, everything finished well near the midnight, on November 21. The labor took around twenty four hours in total. Anne heard the loud cry of her child and managed to smile with a vague, yet happy smile. Then she shut her eyes as she lost her conscience in exhaustion.

Master Cromwell was standing near Anne's chamber, waiting for the news about the labor of the former Queen of England. He spent half of the day at the Tower of London. Someone of Anne's ladies periodically went out and notified him about the progress of the labor, which was rather slow. When Lady Anne Shelton and Lady Mary Kingston told him that the midwife was concerned with the survival of both Anne and the child, he hoped that Anne would probably die in childbirth. It would have helped the kingdom, the King, and Cromwell himself. As he heard the cry of the newborn baby, Cromwell silently cursed several times. He strained his ears and continued to listen.

Anne regained her conscience in around half an hour. She looked down at herself and saw that the she had already been dressed by her ladies in a clean white cotton nightgown. She raised her head and looked around, her eyes fixing at the midwife with the bundle, her newborn child, in her hands. Anne hazily glared at the midwife. "What is it?" she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.

The midwife was examining the child, searching for any possible deformations and abnormalities and estimating the health of the child. She turned to face Anne. "Lady Anne, it is a boy, healthy boy," she replied.

Anne smiled through tears oozing in her blue eyes. Her cheeks were pale and tear-stained. Her round eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. "My boy," she murmured. "Is he healthy?" She had to ask again about the health of her child. She had to be sure that her son was fine and would survive.

The midwife swaddled the child. "Yes, Lady Anne," she replied. "I will give the child to you soon."

"Dear Lord, thank you," Anne whispered.

Lady Mary Kingston went outside to tell Master Kingston that Anne had given birth to a boy. However, she stumbled into Master Cromwell surrounded by the sword-bearing guards.

Cromwell reached for the hand of the lady to stop her. "Who was born?" he questioned sternly.

Lady Kingston paused and stared at him. "A healthy boy," she answered embarrassingly.

Cromwell flinched inwardly at those words. He desperately hoped that even if Anne Boleyn survived, she would give birth to a stillborn child or to a daughter, but not to a healthy boy. He fell short of his expectations, and it was too dangerous for him and for the King who wanted to marry as soon as possible and who was impatiently waiting for the birth of Anne's child. Cromwell said to Lady Anne Shelton that he would tell the King about the events of that day. Then he left the Tower and hurried home. Tomorrow, early in the morning, Cromwell had to go to _the Palace of Whitehall_ to report the case to the King. Inside he was trembling in fear and in uncertainty.

At the same time, Anne was holding her child in her hands. She was quietly cradling him. She brought the child to her lips and kissed the soft down on the top of his head. A sincere, happy smile illuminated her tired, pale face. Her son was a small perfect copy of Henry, except for his eyes and his hair. The child's hair was a little darker than Henry's – it was black. The baby also had Anne's magnificent, strikingly blue eyes.

"My son, my dear son," Anne said lovingly. She placed another soft kiss on her son's forehead.

Lady Eleanor Hampton approached Anne's bed. She was Anne's favorite lady among all of those women who were staying with her. Even Lady Anne Shelton, whom Anne had always considered to be the most loyal lady-in-waiting to her, wasn't as caring as Lady Eleanor. "My lady, how will you name the child?" she inquired.

As Anne heard that, a myriad of thoughts was whirling in her mind. She knew that Henry would love to call the child Edward, but she didn't like that name. Moreover, she didn't want to name her child so because Henry had betrayed her and hadn't shown any care for their child. She wanted to name the baby in the honor of her deceased brother George, but it was too risky as somebody could perceive it as a hint to the child's ill parentage. Anne loved many French male names, but it was undesirable to give her child with Henry a foreign name.

Suddenly, Anne felt as vehement rage was running through her veins, venom dissolving in her bloodstream. She bent her head down to prevent Lady Eleanor from seeing that her blue eyes were dancing with equivocal dark sparkles of anger and rage at Henry. Then a thought popped into her head that hadn't Henry's elder brother Arthur died, Arthur would have been the King and Henry would most likely have entered the church, as it had been initially planned for Henry by his father _King Henry VII_. If it had happened, then Anne would have never been able to fall in love with Henry and her life wouldn't have been ruined by him. Anne decided that she would name her son Arthur. She smiled in her mind as she tried to imagine Henry's reaction to it.

Besides, there also was legendary King Arthur from the ancient times, and Anne had always been fascinated with his personality. Anne's child was a bastard after an annulment of her marriage to _King Henry VIII of England_. King Arthur also was the illegitimate son of _King Uther Pendragon_ and a woman named _Igraine_. Despite his illegitimacy, Arthur was a legendary British leader of the late 5th and early 6th centuries who led the defense of the British land against the Saxon invaders. King Arthur was great, and maybe Anne's son would also be able to become great, notwithstanding the child's very bleak future as he was viewed not only as a bastard, but also as a child of two traitors of England. Anne was suffering at that thought, but she could do nothing.

Anne's smile became wider as the decision was made up. Arthur was a fine name for her baby boy. It suited him. Perhaps, it would also remind Henry about something.

Anne raised her head and glared at Lady Eleanor. "Arthur," she responded firmly.

"Arthur?" Lady Eleanor asked.

Anne nodded slightly. "Arthur," she confirmed.

"My lady, I will have to take the child to your sister Lady Mary Stafford tomorrow."

Anne shuddered because she didn't want to leave her son so quickly, knowing that she would never see him again, never kiss his soft forehead and never press him to her chest. "Why is it so soon?" She took her son to her chest with trembling hands.

"I am sorry, Lady Anne, but surely you understand that the Tower is not the place for the newborn child."

"Probably, I can hold him for at least one more day," Anne suggested.

At the same time, Lady Mary Kingston approached Anne's bed and stared at Anne and her child. "No, my lady, I am very sorry. Master Cromwell gave us strict instructions, and we must submit to his orders," she explained.

Lady Eleanor granted an apologetic, compassionate glance to Anne. "I am sorry, Lady Anne."

"I see," Anne muttered grievously.

"Don't worry. I will deliver the child in safety to your sister's household," Lady Eleanor said.

Anne's little son Arthur was like an unexpected gift from Heaven for Anne, but even this gift was unable to save his mother. Monstrous tides of pain and heartache slashed through her as Anne grasped that she would lose her son, her precious and long-awaited child, almost immediately after his birth. At that thought her mind went blank and unbearable pain smote her, her heart was bleeding. Henry was so cruel to Anne, and she still couldn't believe how it was possible.

Sir William Kingston came to Anne's chambers in the later evening. His facial expression was solemn and taciturn. "Madame, your execution will happen as soon as you recover, which will happen in around ten days, as the midwife said," he informed.

Anne raised her eyebrows. "Master Kingston, do you have any news from the King?" She still had some hopes that Henry would spare her and at least send her to the nunnery or place her under the home arrest for the rest of her life. In that case she would probably be able at least meet her children from time to time.

Kingston shook his head in negative response. "No, Madame. Master Cromwell will report to His Majesty the King about your situation tomorrow."

"I must thank you for letting me know," Anne replied in a low voice.

"You are welcome, Madame."

At that moment Anne was completely convinced that Henry would never spare her, especially if he would talk to Thomas Cromwell tomorrow. She was sure that even if the King had hesitated to some extent in relation to how to proceed to the situation with Anne, Thomas Cromwell would do his best to accelerate her execution. Moreover, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, will also be against any further delays of her execution, Anne mused. Anne had many enemies and no defenders. She was abandoned by everybody, except for her sister Mary who tried to beseech the King to release Anne from the Tower of London. It seemed that Anne had to prepare for her death and for the fact that she would never see how her children would grow up.

* * *

**_November 22, 1536, Hever Castle, County of Kent, England_**

Two people were standing in the shadow of an old tall oak. It was quite dark around because the cold autumn sun hadn't risen yet in those early morning hours. There was nobody around. Everywhere was absolute stillness and shadowy semidarkness. The servants were sleeping. Only these two men were awake. Both of them seemed unconcerned by the cold and the chilly wind. They were quietly chatting about something, like two skylarks that had been viewed by many Renaissance poets as powerful symbols of freedom, inspiration, hope, and joy.

Their appearance suggested that they were nobles. The young gentleman was dressed dramatically only in the black, wearing the black brocade doublet with the featuring tie-in sleeves, the black straight pants, the black silk shirt with the high lace collar, and the black velvet flat cap with the large black ostrich plume. Another man, the older one, was dressed in the same colors and in the same fashion. It looked as though both men were in deep mourning.

These two gentlemen were _Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Wiltshire and 1st Earl of Ormond_, and _Henry Percy, 6th Earl of Northumberland_. They were having a secret meeting at Hever Castle. Henry Percy left London for Hever Castle right after he had learnt that Anne had given birth to a boy. He was riding half of the night in order to meet Thomas Boleyn.

Thomas Boleyn glanced at Henry Percy. "Fate works in mysterious ways. Anne has King Henry's son, but the King doesn't wish even to hear her name," he said, regret creeping into his voice.

"Lord Wiltshire, the King doesn't believe that the boy is his son," Henry Percy admitted.

Thomas sighed heavily. "I fear we won't be able to persuade the King that the boy is his."

Henry waited a moment, reflective. Then he smiled glumly. "The King will talk neither to you, Sir Thomas, nor to your daughter, Lady Mary Stafford, who has already tried to touch a sensitive string in the King's heart. It is no use to talk to him."

Softness filled the Earl of Wiltshire's heart as he remembered his daughter Mary. "My Mary is a brave girl. I was amazed when I learnt that she decided to persuade the King to save Anne's life."

Henry Percy smiled benevolently. "Your eldest daughter has always been a kind-hearted woman."

Thomas Boleyn felt as though the harsh reality had strangled him. Everything in combination – the execution of his son George, Anne's imprisonment, and Mary's refuse to talk to him – resulted in a feeling of monstrous guilt, which was prickling and breaking the old man's heart. He knew that his ambitions had led his children to such miserable fates. He was sick of guilt and of self-disdain, although he never showed it in public. He was too proud to admit to someone else that his games and his gambling for the sake of both power and status had been the catalysts for the downfall of his own family and for many other tragedies. "Mary will take good care of Anne's son," he said.

"Yes, she will," Percy agreed. Then he glared at the Earl of Wiltshire. "It is fantastic how Cromwell manipulates King Henry who doesn't see that all those accusations are false. King Henry even doesn't see how much harm Anne's execution might bring to the prestige of the monarchy and the Tudors in general. To execute the woman who had just given birth to a child is not a very good cause. In addition, there would be rumors that Anne's child might be the son of the King."

"The King is thinking only about today. He doesn't think strategically for a long-term perspective," Thomas answered.

Henry Percy laughed tragically. It was a woesome laugh disrobing all his pain and all his heartache he had been feeling since the day of Anne's arrest. "Undoubtedly, Henry Tudor will never release Anne from the Tower. Even if he wants to do it, Cromwell won't allow him. Cromwell will excogitate any new story to accuse Anne of something else and again condemn her to death."

"The reality is such that we must proceed to our plan," Thomas Boleyn suggested carefully.

Percy nodded. "My people are ready. I just hope that God will help us and everything will work well." He cleared his throat. "Among Anne's ladies, Lady Eleanor is helping us. Several other people work at the Tower – they are guards. Lady Eleanor and these guards all are my people."

"Thank you, Lord Northumberland."

"Lord Wiltshire, nobody of Anne's Aunts attending her at the Tower must know what we are going to do," Henry Percy warned.

Thomas Boleyn nodded. "Of course, your lordship. I understand the situation very well." He emitted another heavy sign. He felt quite weak as in the past months since Anne and George's arrest his health had deteriorated. "How is Anne feeling? Did your people tell you, your lordship?"

"The labor was very difficult. Anne lost much blood during the childbirth, but apart from physical exhaustion and blood loss she is fine. She will regain her strength in ten-fourteen days."

Thomas' gaze turned thoughtful. "It means that the execution will happen at the beginning of December," he stated.

Henry Percy shook his head in agreement. "Yes, your lordship. My people will let me know what date and time King Henry and that devil Cromwell will set for her execution."

"Good."

"The executioner from _Calais_ won't come to London," Percy informed. "A month ago my loyal man went to _Calais_ and paid to several executioners in order to make sure that they won't be able to travel to London in December. Cromwell already knows that no French executioner will come."

"There is also an axe," Boleyn parried.

"They won't need an axe if everything goes in accordance with our plan. We need the King to order to execute Anne by burning her at the stake at his pleasure instead of having her beheaded," the Earl objected. "I talked to Cromwell several times in the last months, carefully hinting that Anne should be burnt and stating that she is an evil witch who cuckolded the King and who made me, her former fiancé, suffer. I told Cromwell that I am sure that Anne seduced the King through witchcraft, like she seduced me many years ago when she didn't see the possibility of royal match and wanted to marry at least the heir to the Earldom." He smiled. "Well, you know the recent rumors about me. The courtiers are chatting that I am very much afraid of sorcery and witchcraft. I said aloud on many occasions that I became a victim of witchcraft many years ago. Of course, I don't believe in witchcraft, and I deliberately spread these rumors to ensure that my conversations with Cromwell don't sound suspicious."

Thomas Boleyn stared at Percy. "You are playing a hard and dangerous game."

"Well, the game is worth the candle," Percy said flatly, with a grin. "If no French executioner can come to London, Anne will protest because she is scared to be beheaded by an axe. Then we have chances that her protests will infuriate the King and Cromwell, and they will order her burning." He rolled his eyes. "If she is burnt, there is no proof of her salvation. Ashes are not body."

"The King may decide to wait until the French executioner can come," Boleyn countered.

"No, he won't do it. He wants to marry Jane Seymour as soon as possible."

The Earl of Wiltshire sighed. "The King may order to use an axe for her beheading."

"In this context my people will act in accordance with our first plan. They will dissolve sleeping draught in wine and water, and the guards and Anne's ladies will be sleeping. Then they will secretly take Anne out of the Tower during the late night. We have already thought everything out. However, if it happens, we won't be able to fabricate Anne's death," Percy said in such a quiet voice that it vibrated in his chest. "If it happens, Anne's life will go in conformity with our plan. As for us, we would be better to leave England because we may be suspected as her accomplices."

"I will be the first accomplice," Thomas Boleyn stated, also very quietly. "I have already prepared enough money to leave the country with my wife and my mother. I will also have to take care of my daughter Mary and my grandchildren, taking them with us abroad."

"Let's hope that I successfully manipulated Cromwell and that the King would listen to his chief minister. If Anne is burnt, she will be technically dead. We won't need to flee the kingdom."

"It is the most desirable outcome."

"I will know in the next two days what the King will decide. I will inform you, Lord Wiltshire."

"Thank you, Lord Northumberland." Boleyn emitted a heavy sigh, his expression was strained. "I hope we won't be checkmated."

Northumberland raised his head and glanced in the dark, clouded sky. "No, we won't. God will help us," he said, a glimpse of confidence in his tone. "Anne doesn't deserve all these hardships. God cannot be so cruel to deprive us of the last chance to save her life."

"I am praying that we won't fail," Thomas Boleyn reiterated.

Every time the Earl of Northumberland remembered that Anne had been sentenced to death on the trumped-up charges of adultery and incest and that it had happened because of the King's initiative, he felt as anger transfixed his heart. He hated King Henry for his foolishness and for his callousness. He didn't respect Henry Tudor as his King and his sovereign, although he always visibly acknowledged his honor and loyalty to the King of England, in reality considering the King a holier-than-thou, swell-headed tyrant. Henry Percy had to pretend and to play the role of the loyal servant at the court.

Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn had a tragic romance that was ruined by their parents, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, and King Henry himself. Many years ago the young lord saw Anne Boleyn at the court when she was the lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine and he was a page at Cardinal Wolsey's household. Percy was attached to Anne from the first sight. Deep and passionate love for the beautiful, young and French-like looking woman grew in his heart, and she responded to his affection. Percy started to court Anne in secret, but there was nothing physical between them – only courtly love and romantic devotion which elevated the young man's spirits to heaven. Their affection grew at the length that they were intending to marry and were secretly betrothed to each other.

Unfortunately, Anne and Henry's parents blocked the match from the very beginning, almost since their mutual desire to marry became known. Henry's parents opposed the marriage because they had in their minds another wife from a family with much higher standing for Percy, while Anne's father had plans to make his youngest daughter King Henry's mistress after Mary Boleyn had been discarded by the King. Henry Percy's father even threatened his son to disinherit him if he hadn't given up the idea to marry Anne. Soon Wolsey told the young man in no uncertain terms the King of England also didn't wish for Percy's marriage to Anne Boleyn and that the King would have found for him a far better match than Anne as he had a much better impression of the young man's worth. Shocked and heartbroken, Henry Percy fiercely defended his right to choose a wife for himself and Anne's suitability for the marriage, and he begged the cardinal to intercede with the King to let him marry Anne, but everything was in vain. The result was that Anne had been sent to Hever Castle, away from the court, while Percy was sent to his family estates.

To make Anne and Henry's secret matrimony impossible, the young lord was quickly married off to _Lady Mary Talbot, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury_ in 1525. However, that marriage was terribly unsuccessful because Percy didn't like Mary Talbot and later even grew to hate her. He loved Anne Boleyn with all his heart even after his marriage to another woman. Truth be told, his feelings of dislike for his wife were reciprocal, and Mary repented that her father had forced her to marry the young Percy. In four years after their marriage, the spouses' relations were irreparably damaged. When he succeeded his father as the Earl of Northumberland in 1527, Henry Percy had sinful thoughts that only two years separated his happiness from his utter unhappiness. Had his father died in 1525, it would have been much easier for him to repudiate his marriage to Mary Talbot. After Mary had delivered a stillborn child at her father's home in April 1529, the temporary separation followed. Henry Percy knew that he had committed a great mistake when he had given in and had allowed them to marry him off because that marriage made him the loneliest and the unhappiest person in the world.

When Henry Percy learnt that King Henry had fallen in love with Anne and wanted to marry her, Lord Northumberland envied the King, suspecting that his sovereign had played a significant role in Percy's separation from Anne at the stage when the King was only interested in putting Anne into his bed and then discarding her, like he did with all other mistresses. When Northumberland saw that Anne had fallen for King Henry, he was frightened for her, even though he knew about the King's serious intention to marry Anne. Knowing the King's fickle nature and his constant sexual appetites for new female conquests, Percy predicted that Anne wouldn't be happy with the King even if she became the Queen of England. The Earl's preapprehension materialized when he learnt about the rumors that King Henry had re-established the traditions of having the infamous and scandalous hunting parties with the Duke of Suffolk and several other courtiers as those parties were widely believed to be the times of extramarital affairs for the King and his friends. Later Percy heard that the King was planning to divorce Anne because of her inability to bear a son, striving to replace her with Jane Seymour.

However, Henry Percy couldn't imagine that the King of England would go beyond any imaginable measures to get rid of Anne, sanctioning the murder of the innocent women and four innocent men. At the time of Anne's fall, there were rumors circulating around the court that Henry Percy had actually secretly married Anne Boleyn and that their marriage had probably been consummated, but there were no evidence of that fact. The Earl was lucky that he hadn't been suspected as an adulterer involved in Anne's extramarital affairs she embarked on in order to conceive a bastard child and bluff everybody into believing that the child was the King's offspring.

The Earl of Northumberland returned to the court from his family castle in Northumberland after Anne's arrest, and after the trial he didn't come back to his estates. At the time of the Boleyns' downfall, Henry Percy began to loathe and to hate the King of England, thinking that he had to do much more to save Anne, the love of his life. Yet, he could openly do nothing for Anne's benefit, because if he had undertaken something to clear her name in the King's eyes and had spoken in her defense, he himself would have been immediately imprisoned. It was a real luck for him that Lord Northumberland was skillful in the art of ambivalence, so that it looked natural when he smiled gladly at the King and praised him in front of the crowd of courtiers. Now only their plan can save Anne's life, and Henry Percy and Thomas Boleyn prayed that everything would go well.

* * *

**_I would like to thank the readers who subscribed and/or favourited this story._**

**_I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for help._**

_For me King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn in their appearance are such as they are in the show. So I will portray them in that way._ _By the way, I am not fascinated with the actor who played the role of Henry - Jonathan Rhys Meyers. I liked the actor who played King François I of France - Emmanuel Leconte - much more than I liked Henry._

_What do you think about my Henry Tudor? I have always considered Henry Tudor to be a cruel, tyrannical man. Honestly, I even doubt that he is capable of loving somebody from the bottom of his heart. He loves women's touch, but not their hearts and souls. I perceive him as an easy-rider and as an idler._

_The listed names of the ladies who attended Anne at the Tower are real. Only the name of Lady Eleanor Hampton is fictional because she is supposed to be one of Henry Percy's people._

_Please be aware that the chapters will be quite long. I appreciate long chapters more than short ones._

_Please let me know what you think about this chapter, I am very interested in your feedback. Tell me what you like and what you don't like._

**_Please read and review. It keeps me going in the Tudors fan fiction_**_. _**_Thank you in advance._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Death and resurrection**

**_November 22, 1536, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England_**

The gaming court in autumn and winter for royal tennis or _jeu de paume_, as the French called the game, was a large indoor hall inside _the Palace of Whitehall_. A long row of wooden benches followed along one of the walls of the room. King Henry was playing with his friend Charles Brandon, the Duke of were many courtiers around, especially heavily perfumed ladies to cheer the King and his rival on. Both the King and his opponent wore black puffed trunk hose over silk stockings and white muslin shirts loosen as they moved in the game.

"Bravo, Your Majesty!" Edward Seymour cried out from the sidelines.

"Your Majesty, you are playing better than ever," Thomas Seymour said.

King Henry smiled with a bright, thin-lipped smile. "Charles, I have won today," he stated.

Charles Brandon smiled. "Your Majesty, the game was brilliant."

Jane Seymour was standing near the King. As he came closer to her, he took her hands in his own and kissed them. "Jane, I have won because you were here. Your attendance was auspicious for me."

Jane smiled at the King. "Congratulations, Your Majesty. It was a splendid game today," she murmured humbly.

Edward Seymour and Thomas Seymour looked bitterly at each other as they saw Thomas Cromwell approaching the group. Cromwell flashed an insipid smile to them and took a step forward, away from them and closer to the King.

Cromwell bowed to the King. "My most humble pardon, Your Majesty, for disturbing you from your deals," he began.

Henry raised his brows in expectation. "What is it, Master Cromwell?"

Cromwell sighed. "I brought fresh news about Lady Anne Boleyn to you," he notified.

King Henry and Cromwell quickly left the room. Without any other words, Henry marched down the hallways of the Palace right to the Presence Chamber. As they finally reached the destination and entered the room, Henry stood rooted in the center of the room, his gaze piercing Cromwell. For some time, they were only looking at each other, Henry in anticipation and Cromwell trying to guess how to tell the King about the event. Both of them knew why Cromwell came to the King and what he was going to report. Henry silently questioned how Anne Boleyn had been doing and whether she had already given birth to the child.

King Henry held Cromwell's gaze for a long, long time. Then he glanced away. "What are you going to tell me, Master Cromwell?" he asked in irritation. In the past months, he had terrible mood swings and sudden rage outbursts.

"Lady Anne gave birth to a son yesterday," Cromwell said in an inert, emotionless voice.

The sullen, deadening silence followed. Only their breathing was breaching the stillness of the room. Each second that strange, ominous silence was becoming more and more murderous.

King Henry sighed heavily. He was numb and speechless. He turned around from Cromwell and came to the window, staring outside at the naked crowns of the trees. He was thinking. Although his mind was tired, his brain was working very hard. Why did Anne give birth to a son now? Why didn't it happen earlier? Then he swiftly put those thoughts aside as he recalled how Anne had betrayed him with those executed men, including with her own brother George Boleyn. That newborn child wasn't his – it was the bastard child of two traitors, probably even fathered by George Boleyn. It was all that he needed to remember, Henry said to himself. Yet, it was a strange, uncomfortable feeling for him that at last Anne had given birth to a son, but the boy wasn't his son. For whatever reason, it was beyond anger and beyond pain to think that Anne had a child with another man. He persuaded himself that he had those feelings because Anne had stabbed him in his heart as she had betrayed him with other men. It wasn't because he still loved that whore, but because he still suffered from the betrayal and the hurt she had managed to put him through. He believed that only his sweet Jane and only time would heal the wounds of his heart. Anne Boleyn's sins were even worse than simple betrayal, and he hated her with all his heart. Henry blinked, trying to push away a fit of anger and the feelings of betrayal. He needed to focus on the meeting with Cromwell.

The King turned to face Cromwell. His gaze was hard, but there were some contradictory emotions playing in his aquamarine eyes. "How is Lady Anne feeling?" he inquired unexpectedly even to himself.

Cromwell sighed. "Your Majesty, she is doing quite well, although the labor was rather difficult and she lost some blood." He didn't say that she had lost much blood.

The King closed his eyes for a moment. "Will she recover soon?"

Cromwell noticed that Henry seemed to be in a moody state of mind. "Yes."

Being able to read the King's desires from his face, Cromwell realized that King Henry was hesitating in relation to what to do with Anne. Cromwell knew that the news about the boy would throw Henry of his stride. The King of England was caught off-guard, and Cromwell was afraid that the King might have the mood to spare Anne, perhaps sending her to a nunnery instead of the planned execution. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Cromwell knew that the King had been grieved to learn that the woman he once had made his wife and his Queen might have been capable of such evil. As a result, when he had heard the rumors that Anne had entertained men in her chambers, he had no choice but to launch an investigation into the matter. The King was furious at the stage when the slandering rumors began to spread because if the Queen might have been guilty, she had been placing the royal succession itself in jeopardy with her adultery as she could have become pregnant by her lovers and later put a bastard child into the royal cradle. Cromwell also knew that King Henry had been shocked with the results of the investigation that was said to discover and prove Anne's infidelity. He even admitted that the King had been heartbroken when he was declared that the investigation had found solid evidence of Anne's guilt. Cromwell was clever enough to understand that Henry had never thought that his own entrusted and powerful councilors, mainly Cromwell, might have taken advantage of the accusations to grant the King his peace of mind and to get him rid of the unwanted wife whom the King thought to be incapable of bearing healthy sons, especially when he was openly courting Lady Jane Seymour.

Cromwell convinced Henry that the investigation had been made scrupulously and that all the trials of the presumed traitors had been completely fair. Had the King known that all evidence against Anne and accused men had been fabricated in order to finish the downfall of the Boleyns, he would have been horrified, not willing to acknowledge that he had wanted to use that chance to be free and marry another woman. Cromwell knew perfectly well that Henry would blame his advisers and the entire world instead of himself, and many people would become the objects of his wrath. As soon as Henry realized that Anne Boleyn had been falsely accused and that other men had been unjustly condemned and executed, he would have probably ordered the execution stopped. Most importantly, Cromwell knew that he had engineered the downfall of Anne Boleyn whose brother and friends had been murdered by the King. The twenty-six noblemen who were the members of the jury tired her and found her guilty because they needed to please the King of England, even if they had to sentence to death an innocent anointed Queen for the crimes described by the majestic general words that Anne was "_despising her marriage and entertaining malice against the King, and following daily her frail and carnal lust_." Her judges had to vote guilty just as they were afraid of acting otherwise because of fear that they might have found themselves to be accused of being her lovers and because of fear to displease their sovereign. Therefore, the court, presided over by Anne's own uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, as lord steward, unanimously declared Anne Boleyn guilty of all charges. Knowing that she was found guilty and being disrelished by the thought that Anne slept with her own brother and had lovers among his friends, imagining that Anne and her lovers might have shared the royal bed that the King himself lay with his wife in, King Henry signed all the death warrants without any hesitation.

As a result, too much blood was spilled because of the King's desire to set Anne aside and be free, and there was no way back. If Anne was pardoned by the King, much new blood would be spilled for her revenge on the back of the murders of innocent people, and perhaps even Cromwell's own life. His well-being was being threatened; his son's well-being was at the stake, and he couldn't risk his own life and his son's future. Cromwell knew that he had to encourage the King to execute Anne as soon as possible. He would manipulate him by flaring up his wrath at Anne and stating that she had accused the King of murdering innocent people for his lust.

Henry cocked his head. "Master Cromwell, did the physician say that?"

Cromwell waved his head. "Your Majesty, you are correct." He paused momentary. "Lady Anne will be ready for her execution in at most ten days. I suppose that you don't want to delay your marriage to Lady Jane Seymour any longer."

Henry didn't answer. Instead, he averted his gaze from Master Cromwell. It was still extraordinary for him that a woman, whom he loved and worshiped for nearly a decade, was capable of sleeping with several other men and committing such a vile crime – incest with her own brother – for carnal pleasure and for siring a son on her. The most abominable crime was her incest with George Boleyn because it was a mortal sin, a crime against the English laws and against the laws of God, for which Anne would surely be stuck in purgatory after her death. Damnation was the price for Anne's terrible sins. Earlier Henry was sure that she had deserved to be punished for her crimes, paying with her life. He was so determined to sign her death warrant that he had dissolved Anne's household two days before her court case and told Jane Seymour on the morning of Anne's trial that Anne would be condemned that day. He wanted her death with all his heart. Yet, something changed during the past several months. Although he still wished Anne to be punished for her crimes, he no longer was so enraged to easily order her death and to spill her blood. Anyway, they had one child in common – Elizabeth. Although Henry once called Elizabeth Henry Norris's bastard in front of the whole court and the courtiers only shook their hands either in disbelief or in shock, he knew that it was caused by his anger as he was perfectly convinced that Elizabeth was his daughter. Elizabeth was the product of love and passion he once felt for the Whore Anne Boleyn who had always pretended that she had loved him. It was difficult for him to understand that the only child Anne had given him was the child of love only from his side. What should he do now with Anne? Should he order her execution after her recovery? Or should he probably send her to a nunnery with a strict regime? He looked at Cromwell and blinked, his gaze expressing certain confusion.

Cromwell saw the King's hesitation. He couldn't lose more time. He had to act right at that moment. He had already made up a tale to anger the King and make Anne Boleyn the object of his rampage. At last, when the silence became almost oppressive and sepulchral, Cromwell spoke. "I was there when Lady Anne Boleyn was giving birth to the bastard boy. I stood near the door of her chambers. She was screaming over and over again that she was innocent and that you, Your Majesty, had killed many innocent people. She was cursing at you and calling you a murderer," Cromwell declared.

It worked as Cromwell predicted. The King raised his head, his gaze hard and angry. He was furious. Henry's eyes were shooting daggers. "What did she say?" he asked impatiently.

"Lady Anne verbalized many accusations against Your Majesty." Cromwell's response was firm.

"Master Cromwell, repeat what she said."

"Lady Anne stated that you, Your Majesty, had murdered several innocent people just to please yourself and to marry Lady Jane Seymour whom Lady Anne cursed and called in many shameful epithets," Cromwell added. He was very insistent as he tried to push the King to the final decision. He thought that a little lie could save many lives. In addition, he would control that the midwife and the ladies, who accompanied Anne in the Queen's chambers at the Tower of London during the childbirth, would keep silent and would disappear from London. He would convince them; he would bribe them; and he would even fabricate something against them if he had to ensure that they would never repeat in public Anne's true words during the childbirth. He knew that Anne had never accused Henry of murdering people and that she had never called him aloud. She couldn't have done that during the childbirth because in the end of her delivery she had been very weak even to scream and because she had nearly died giving birth to her "bastard" son.

Henry's eyes were blazing with anger. He clenched his teeth. "What a whore! A whore! A harlot!" he roared in an outburst of rampage. "How dare she call me, her King and her sovereign, a murderer? She is a traitor! She is an adulteress! She betrayed me with those men! She is a prostitute! She must thank me that I allowed her to live several more months to produce her bastard boy, who could well be the result of the incestuous union." He screwed up his face in anger. "I am the King, and I can do whatever I want with this whore after she had betrayed me and England," he bellowed. Then he raised a small vase from the nearby table and tossed it toward the fireplace in a self-indulgent show of superiority. The vase hit the wall above the mantel and many tiny splinters of glass sprayed the room.

Cromwell was delighted. His plan was working: the King was infuriated as a wave of hatred for Anne slashed through his veins. He and many others seemed to be safe. "Your Majesty is right. Lady Anne was accused of high treason. The court tried her and found her guilty."

The words that Cromwell reported Anne had said infuriated King Henry to his fingernails. Suddenly, he wanted to seek cruel revenge against Anne for all the years he had wasted for her and only because of her, not having a son and a male legitimate heir. He hated her with the most dark and cruel parts of her heart at that moment. He had never hated somebody else before. Yet, if he had been honest with himself, he would have realized that he had hated her because her adultery had wounded his pride and ego and because he had been feeling terrible emptiness in his heart since he had imprisoned her. But the King wasn't ready to be frank with himself. Henry stared at Cromwell with determination. "Did you send for the French executioner from _Calais_ again?" He meant the same executioner who had been hired from France the first time, before it became clear that Anne was carrying a child. As the news of Anne's pregnancy was announced, the executioner was paid for his travel expenses and sent back to _Calais_.

"I asked that executioner to come, but he responded that he would be unable to arrive in December. I don't know the reason, Your Majesty," Cromwell announced. "Should I find another French executioner? It would probably take several weeks. Not every executioner would agree to go to London before Christmas and New Year."

The King rolled his eyes. "I want to marry Lady Jane as soon as possible," he said in a high voice. "Use an axe for her execution," he advised.

Cromwell emitted a sign of relief. Then he recalled what he had heard recently, which was to his great surprise. "Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, once said that Anne Boleyn is a natural witch. He also mentioned that he doesn't understand why Your Majesty doesn't want to burn her as a witch, as it is usually done with witches."

"Many people call Lady Anne a witch. And there is no smoke without fire. Perhaps, people are correct and Anne is a witch," Henry speculated.

Master Cromwell continued to play with the King. He was a clever and logical man, and he knew how to get what he wanted. "Even Henry Percy said that. And he knows Lady Anne very well because they used to be betrothed many years ago. Their engagement was broken as Henry Percy's father and Sir Thomas Boleyn oppressed their marriage."

When Cromwell reminded Henry about Thomas Boleyn, Henry suddenly believed that that name would be the reason of a heart stroke or suffocation for him. After all, it was Thomas Boleyn who threw Anne at him. He was fed up with the Boleyn family. He wanted only to marry his sweet and pure Jane and to have children with her.

"Well, Master Cromwell. Henry Percy has a point," the King retorted, his eyes narrowing with anger.

Cromwell was amazed, his eyes widened. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"Perhaps, it is indeed a good idea to burn Lady Anne as a witch. Given that we don't have that executioner from _Calais_, I order you to proceed to her execution by burning," the King said resolutely. A scowl crossed the King's features. "However, please give a poison to her right before the execution. It wouldn't seem well for her to have an agonizing death. I am granting to her easier death."Cromwell was abashed. He didn't think that he would infuriate the King so much. But there was no way back. "In this case we will need to put something on Lady Anne's head and to carry her body to the execution place in order not to allow people to know that she had died before the execution."

"Then do it," Henry commanded with a certain hard directness and as though it was the final, dogmatic judgment. "And, please make sure that nobody from the Boleyn family comes to the court. They all are banished."

Cromwell only bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

* * *

**_December 1, 1536, the Tower of London, London, England_**

Anne Boleyn was in complete horror. The scalding heat rose up inside her, reaching deeply her heart, like a selfish, cruel lover grasping for her soul. Then that heat transformed into chillness of dreadful fear that seized her heart. It was difficult for her to maintain her self-control, but she tried not to look terrified. She felt uneasy as the spell of death had already captured her mind and her body.

Today was the day of her execution. Anne was still shocked from when Master Kingston informed her that the King had ordered to proceed to her execution by burning her at the stake as a witch and a high traitor. As she heard that, she was so speechless and so dumbfounded; she hadn't expected such cruelty from her former husband. It was too much. It was too unimaginable. It appeared that Henry hated her from the bottom of his heart, so much that he didn't care that he had breached his own promise to hire the French executioner from _Calais_. Earlier she was promised that a skilled French swordsman would be her executioner, as Henry agreed to her request, probably out of mercy or memory that they had shared certain feelings in the past years. Kingston explained to Anne that French executioner would be unable to come in December.

Henry wasn't going to wait the New Year and aimed to use extreme methods, depriving Anne of a mercy to die quicker, more dignified, and less cruel death by beheading, which was usually granted to the majority of highborn traitors. Anne had always feared fire and smoke, especially after the dreadful, heart-shattering dreams when Lady Mary had been burning her at the stake. Now the nightmare turned out to be true. At times some nightmares tended to materialize, Anne mused solemnly. How happy Lady Mary Tudor should be now!

Anne inwardly shuddered. She didn't know how she would be able to stay calm as she would be burnt in front of a bloodthirsty crowd of people who hated and despised her. She could imagine how people would be screaming loudly and greeting her death in the flame, approving of the King's actions and cursing her, labeling her to be a witch and a whore. It would be even much worse than the execution of her dear brother George and her friends, all the victims of Henry's wild madness and outrageous cruelty. It would be a very agonizing death.

How did she deserve these torments? Did Henry indeed hate her so much? She had only loved him more with all her heart, while he betrayed her in the worst possible way. Henry betrayed not only her love for him and for their children – he betrayed Anne even in her death by sentencing her to burning at the stake just for his own pleasure. It was the moment when Anne hated Henry the most in her life. She had never hated somebody else as much as she hated Henry at the moment when she was told about the changed method of execution. The heavy and stinging feeling of hatred and repulsion filled her tormented heart, supplemented with tart taste of betrayal in her mouth. She felt as though the metallic chains had been encircled around her bosom and her hands, which restricted her movements and made her body cringe in pain. Hatred overtook all her essence, and the only thing she wished was to see Henry's blood, warm and red. She had no doubt that if Henry had been in the same room at that time, she would certainly have tried to kill him and then herself as she wouldn't have been able to deal with her hatred for him.

Anne regretted all the years she spent with Henry. She deplored herself that she had been such a fool to think that he would love her and only her forever. She regretted that she had been waiting for him for so many years in order to be divorce Catherine and marry her, spending her youth in constant uncertainty and wasting her fertile years for nothing when she could have married Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, who was her first romantic love. She could have given Percy many children and be happy with him a long time ago. She could have had a normal life of an English noblewoman if she was allowed to marry Percy or somebody else, and she couldn't have been a hated and scorned _onéreux prostituée_ – an expensive whore – in the people's eyes. She repented that she hadn't pressed Henry Percy to secretly marry her and even run away from England in order to be together. She still remembered why her betrothal to Henry Percy had been broken, feeling that she hated her father and the King at the same time. Anne regretted that she had ever loved Henry. She bewailed that her path had ever intersected with the King's path.

Anne thought that it had probably been better if she had stayed at the French court and hadn't come back to England when her father had summoned her there with the purpose to put her under the King's bedcovers. It was in France and the Low Countries where Anne learnt the ways of the courtly world and touched the greatest culture of which she had had only pale understanding before. Anne's happiest time was in France and in the Low Countries because that time of her early youth wasn't blackened by her father's unlimited ambitions, insatiable avarice, and perverse machinations aimed at securing more wealth, power, and prestige. The days of her early youth weren't marked by Henry's brutal betrayal and the abandonment and the betrayal by her father and her Uncle – Thomas Boleyn and Thomas Howard – after her imprisonment and arrest. Those happy days were carefree and easygoing, and Anne wished that she had always stayed in France, thus avoiding her death on the scaffold. The only pure thing that came out of her love for Henry was her beloved Elizabeth who would never see her mother again and would be taught that her mother had been the treasonous whore and the usurper of the throne, and her forced separation from Elizabeth infuriated Anne the most, making her hate Henry with all her heart.

Anne's love for Henry ended just as many fabled amorous legends had - with tragedy and with betrayal. Their love was broken into many twiggy pieces when she failed to produce a son for him, and that love had no potential to rise from ashes. Henry would never change his mind and save her before her execution, and now Anne was sure that it was so. It appeared that Anne had made a mistake because their love hadn't been a fathomless, miraculous feeling of eternal love for each other. Although Anne loved Henry for many years, she gradually grew to understand that he would always love himself more than anyone else, which, coupled with his obsession to have a male heir, could have made him manically cruel in his decisions. It was exactly her case.

Anne remembered all of Henry's numerous mistresses and at last Henry's new infatuation – Lady Jane Seymour, whom he imagined to be an angel who would save him from the darkness and who became one of the reasons of Anne's final downfall. She imagined how happy the Seymours were that Anne would be executed by burning, opening Henry and Jane the road to their marriage. Now, when her minutes were counted and she would soon depart to another word, Anne hated Jane with all her heart, with deeper hatred than she had ever felt for the woman whom Henry was openly courting and who would eventually become his next wife. She hated Jane so much that she wished her death at the stake instead of herself. At that moment of despair, Anne was convinced that if Jane had been sentenced to be executed for whatever reason, she would have preferred that her enemy had been burnt at the stake, and she would have witnessed that spectacle, laughing at Jane's torments. She couldn't have felt otherwise at those agonizing time.

On the threshold of her death, Anne was ready to laugh at herself because she once told her brother George that Lady Mary Tudor had been her death and that she had been Mary's death. She was mistaken that she said that – Jane Seymour was Anne's death. Anne was ready to scream in pain and in anger because she hated and despised Jane Seymour with all her heart. She hated her because Jane was such an angel in Henry's eyes and she, _his_ Anne, was a demoness and a witch. But what an angel would be sitting on the knees of other woman's husband, even the King's knees, when his wife of that man was carrying his child? Anne couldn't forget how Henry paraded around the court on the arm of Jane Seymour when Anne was expecting their last child whom she lost only because of Jane Seymour. Anne was convinced that Jane was born to be a country matron running her household somewhere in the countryside, but not the Queen of England. The idea that Jane Seymour would be the Queen of England after Anne was executed was repugnant.

Anne still didn't understand how she could have been so foolish not to see so many intrigues around her. She had to get rid of Jane Seymour earlier, but she was too blinded by her love for Henry and as a result she lost in the whole game. She didn't take into account that if the King had truly wanted to be free of her, he would anyway have found a way to do that. She knew that Jane Seymour had an oversimplified mind and was very undereducated as compared to Anne herself, but she also knew that the Seymours were an ambitious, crafty family, not less cunning than the Boleyns. Anne underestimated her rivals – the Seymours who had undoubtedly instructed Jane what to do and how to attract the King to her personality. She underestimated them, and it was her fatal mistake. As a result, the Seymour faction was in the ascendancy at the court, while the Boleyns were in shatters. Anne lost Henry's love, and the mousy country girl Jane Seymour won. Finally, Anne lost everything, even her chance for survival. Her deep love for Henry resulted in the complete crash of the Boleyn family and Anne and George's deaths.

One of Anne's ladies – Lady Eleanor - came close to Anne and handed to her a glass of water. However, water wasn't transparent as there was odd precipitate at the bottom of the glass.

As Anne noticed it, she stared questionably at the lady. "What is it in the water?" Her voice was very low, her breathing erratic.

"My lady, you will die very quickly as you drink it. The King granted his favor to you to lose your life before being burnt," Lady Eleanor elucidated.

Despite her best efforts, Anne laughed aloud at such outrageousness, caught up in the swell of hilarity, hysteria, and fear. "Poison?" she asked.

Lady Eleanor nodded. "Yes, my lady."

"It is a chivalrous and merciful gesture from His Majesty's side to give me poison before the execution." Anne smiled with a smile hiding a slight twinge of cynicism and scorn. "I hope that the poison won't leave any traits on my face. My skin is too sensitive." She again broke into a thrill of laugh at her own acerbic wit.

"My lady, no traits will be left on your skin," the lady assured.

"In this case you must give me this glass." Anne took the glass and slowly drank the liquid. It had tart taste, but she didn't care. At least she would not die in the flame.

Anne felt that she was feeling weaker and weaker. Soon everything started whirling around her. She was disoriented and awkwardly sank onto the wooden bed. She felt nausea attacking her and claiming her body more and more with each second. Lady Eleanor approached Anne and wrapped a white cotton fabric around her head, covering entirely her face and her neck. Even Anne's dark hair was concealed by that piece of fabric.

Anne closed her eyes under the fabric and tried to relax, expecting death to come soon. She felt as though she had been in the mist. She didn't understand what was going on. Her brain wasn't working properly. It was as though she was flying somewhere between Heaven and hell. She just hoped that the poison would work right before she would be burnt at the stake.

Anne guessed that all her ladies stepped aside, and two guards approached them. Soon they were dragging Anne's body somewhere. Her legs touched the ground from time to time as they were going to the place of her future execution, she thought. However, there was no crowd and everything around seemed to be silent, except for the labored breathing of the guards. Anne realized that two people took her in their hands and were now carrying her somewhere. It was strange, she knew that, but under the effect of the poison she was in such haze as though she had been severely intoxicated.

Next moment, Anne felt that she was placed somewhere, and then they began moving. She realized that it was a carriage that started moving. She was in the carriage, not at the stake, the place of her execution. She didn't understand what was going on, and she was scared. She tried to scream, but her throat produced only unclear, strident sounds. A muffled cry erupted from her throat because her vocal chords were too strained to wail. In despair, she attempted to squall again, but somebody put a large hand on her mouth to prevent her from screaming again. In her mind, Anne no longer had clear images and understanding of reality, and everything was turning darker and darker, more and more unclear. Finally, she was swallowed by the salutary oblivion.

While Anne was struggling to comprehend what had happened to her, a vivid, nearly red flame was blazing up at the stake, gradually embracing the body of the well-dressed woman whose face was hidden by the white cotton fabric. The condemned woman wasn't screaming in torments, and she didn't writhe from pain in the flame. The witnesses of the execution wondered if she had already been dead. The acute smell of burning flesh filled the air, spreading father and father from the stake by the cold winter wind from the Thames. The sordid smell made people wince in horror and corrugate in disgust, and many of them put handkerchiefs to their faces.

The deep, lugubrious whispers rumbled through the air around the fire. In contrast to Anne's fears, almost nobody in the crowd that gathered around the stake was happy with the method of her execution and with her death in general. It was normal that the common people wanted to see a human and benevolent side of their King, but Anne Boleyn's case demonstrated exactly the opposite, showing the unrelenting and merciless nature of their lord and sovereign. The people were displeased that the noblewoman, who had been the former Queen of England and who had recently had a baby, had been sentenced to be burnt at the stake. There were extensive rumors that Anne Boleyn had recently given birth to a healthy son, and the common people wondered whether the boy was the King's son. Moreover, many people founded the fabricated charges of incest with brother, multiple adultery, and high treason against the former Queen to be highly unlikely and false. It sounded ridiculous that the Queen, who had always been attended by the sea of ladies-in-waiting, could have had so many lovers simultaneously and for a long time, as it was believed by the King and disclosed to the English people.

In addition, Anne Boleyn was the anointed and crowned Queen, even if many people called her the Harlot and despised her for driving the good Queen Catherine away from the King of England. It was unacceptable that the Queen was burnt as a usual commoner and as a witch. The Queen and the King were perceived to be someone like the representatives of God on sinful Earth, even if the Queen was the notorious Anne Boleyn. Many people perceived the fact of Anne's cruel death as an act of horrible atrocity from the King's side, creating an image of a tyrant in the people's minds. People knew that Anne had initially been supposed to be executed by the French swordsman, but the King suddenly changed his mind. The fact that the King had broken his word in such an important matter showed that he would be able to break his word on any occasion, at his pleasure or if it suited his immediate purpose and mood swings. However, it was something the King wasn't wishing to understand and couldn't understand, being completely blinded by anger and rampage.

"The King killed Anne Boleyn," a man in the crowd said to his companion.

"I have heard that she just gave birth to a child. The child is a healthy boy," a woman declared.

"Is it true? Maybe it is just rumors," somebody said in astonishment.

The same woman nodded. "Yes."

"I have heard the same," a man stated.

"But whose child he is?" the man inquired.

"There are rumors that the boy is the King's son," the same woman said.

Many people around the speakers gasped in horror and crossed themselves.

"It is blasphemy to burn any woman at the stake after she gave birth to a child," a young woman said. "Rest to Anne Boleyn's soul!"

"God rest to her soul," many people said aloud together.

"It seems that the King simply wanted to take another wife, and that devil Cromwell designed trumped-up charges against Anne Boleyn," somebody said boldly.

"The King simply switches wives when he wants," another man said.

"Be careful. It is still a treasonous talk, even if it is true," somebody warned quietly.

As the guards began to approach a group of talking people, the crowd began to leave the place of the execution. The guards dispelled the crowd. The common people who had once shunned Anne Boleyn were now truly shocked with her untimely demise. Very few people, if any, could truly believe that Anne had simultaneously had four lovers without anyone knowing about it for a long time, especially a woman whose life was observed by so many people. It would have amused Anne if she was aware of anything people spoke and thought at that moment.

* * *

**_December 2, 1536, Dover, County of Kent, England_**

Anne Boleyn opened her eyes. Her head was heavy, and her temples were hurting, as though under her skin. Anne blinked several times, clearing away some of the fogginess and black spots from her vision. She closed her eyes again and inhaled, holding her breath for a long, long moment. Her head was lying on something quite smooth, even comfortable, while the rest of her body was placed on something firm and rough.

Anne's blue eyes flung open as she comprehended that she was able to think and that she wasn't dead. As she stared ahead of her, she saw a familiar male face with a vague smile and a ceiling of the carriage. It was the face of Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, her former fiancé. Anne's eyes focused on his face, and she blinked in confusion. Her eyes wandered around, examining her surroundings. Indeed, she and Henry were in the carriage, and her body was lying on the seat inside the carriage, her head being placed on Henry's knees. Then her eyes returned to Henry Percy's face. She remarked that he was dressed in the brown brocade doublet and the white taffeta shirt. The black velvet flat cap with one white ostrich plume was placed on his head. As it was winter, he also wore the long ermine cap tossed across his shoulders.

"Henry," Anne murmured in bewilderment. She was at loss. Then she cast her eyes down, looking at herself. She was dressed in the same clothing as on the day of her execution. It was simple dark grey damask gown with the low square neckline and with the long marten fur cuffs. She was draped in the brown marten fur cape. "My Lord, Henry," she whispered.

Henry Percy smiled at her. It was a gentle, sincere smile. "Good morning, my dear Anne," he said softly.

Anne's heart was beating wildly as she cast a feverish glance at Henry. "Oh, my Lord! Wait!" she cried out. "Am I in Heaven?"

He laughed. "No, Anne. We are in _Dover_ in the County of Kent, in South East England," he answered. "You should remember where it is."

Anne felt as though cold water was poured on her face. "What? What?"

"Anne, you are not dead," he asserted.

"But… but… I had to be executed…" Anne was stammering. She fluttered her dark long eyelashes up and down. "I was even given the poison to die before being burnt at the stake."

Henry laughed bitterly. "Anne, you aren't dead. Soon you will sail from _Dover_ to _Calais_ and will cross the whole land of France. In _Calais_ you will be met by the special person who will further accompany you to the Republic of Venice where you will continue to live for quite some time," he declared.

Anne shook her head, as though she tried to put aside perplexity. "I don't understand."

Henry touched Anne's forehead shortly as her head was still on his knees. "Anne, I wanted you to live. Although I voted that you were guilty on the trial, I had always known that you were innocent. I understood that the King had wanted to dispose from you – he wanted to murder you in order to marry that wench Jane Seymour. All the judges realized that you had been the lost cause to fight for, so that they delivered to the King the verdict which he so desired." Henry stopped, his eyes scanning her face. He sighed as he noticed the pain in her blue eyes. "However, all this time when you were in the Tower of London, your father and I were planning how to save you."

Amusement was sparkling in the blue eyes that were large at that moment. "My father?"

Henry gave a nod. "Your father, Anne."

Anne was completely taken aback_._ "But how is it possible? In God's name, Henry, what are you talking about?" She couldn't believe that her father wanted to save her. Maybe he loved her, but simply didn't show his true feelings.

"Anne, it seems to me that Sir Thomas, your father, still has some dignity, despite the fact that he had thrown you to the King's embrace because of his ambitions. I realized it after they hadn't given us a permission to marry," Henry ruminated. "He is still your father after all. Probably, after the execution of your brother, something changed in your father's heart, and he decided to help you."

The blue eyes flashed. "Probably, Henry."

Henry was gently stroking her hair. "Actually, it was your father who came to me and asked me whether I could try to talk to the King in order to persuade him to send you to the nunnery. I told Sir Thomas that the King would never agree to do it. Cromwell wouldn't allow it to happen. As a result, we figured out another plan. I daresay that your father was almost in despair when he came to me, although he tried not to show it."

Neither Anne not Henry Percy knew about that, but Thomas Boleyn had been suffering from feverish guilt that had almost corroded his heart. Thomas Boleyn knew that he was guilty before Anne, despite his role in her salvation. He was also guilty that his son George, his only surviving heir, had died at the order of King Henry. He couldn't have saved George and he even helped to condemn him because he didn't speak in Anne and George's defense after he had been arrested and frown into the dungeon at the Tower of London. When he was interrogated, Thomas Boleyn made no attempt to defend his daughter and his son. He didn't argue that Anne was innocent and that she would never have dreamed of betraying the King Henry because she loved him and because it would have been foolish from her side. He even couldn't deny that in despair he might even have considered to hint Thomas Cromwell that he suspected that Anne might have taken a lover in order to conceive the son who would be put in the royal cradle and whom Anne could have passed off as the King's child and as the rightful Prince of Wales. He couldn't refute that he had thought to say that Anne had once said to him that the King might have difficulty siring strong sons, which would be a straightforward hint that Anne had been guilty. Those abominable thoughts whirled in his mind when he was spending night after night in his dark dungeon, fearing for his own life in the first place. Thomas Boleyn knew that if he had spoken into Anne's defense, it would have been the end of his life, his miserable life after he had lost everything he had achieved after many years of hard scheming to put at first Mary into the King's bed and then Anne on the throne of England. He was convinced that if he had tried to argue that Anne and George were innocent against all the fabricated charges, he himself would have been charged as Anne's accomplice, accused of helping Anne to take lovers and to conceal the fact of her infidelities by making her lovers leave her chambers undetected. He decided that the only way to save his own life was to turn against Anne and to help condemn her and others to their death on the scaffold, as he hoped that it would be enough to ensure that Thomas Cromwell and King Henry would release him from the Tower and simply send him into exile. He even told Cromwell during the interrogation that for Anne's awful adultery there should have been only one punishment – death. He suspected that even Cromwell had been surprised with his words.

Only after he had been released from the Tower and George Boleyn had been executed, Thomas Boleyn regained his conscience and felt a feeling of frantic guilt that stabbed him right into his heart. He would never forget his wife Lady Elizabeth's face when he came back to Hever Castle from London in complete disgrace. His wife accused him of murdering their own children and of abandoning them in the last minutes of their life. Lady Elizabeth screamed and cursed him, and then hysteria overcame her and she fell on the floor in the hall of the castle, sobbing uncontrollably and whimpering in heartbreak. Thomas still remembered how he stepped to her, but she moved away on the floor, cursing him and accusing him of all mortal sins. She screamed that she wished to see him dead instead of her dear son George and her beloved Anne. She told him that he was a monster who had no right to live after what he had done to his children. Throughout many days, Lady Elizabeth didn't speak to her husband, making him sleep in another bedroom and spending all the time in her chamber. She didn't respond to Thomas' questions and was silent for hours, not speaking even to her servants and personal maid. Then Thomas and Elizabeth learnt that Anne's execution had been rescheduled because she had been discovered to be pregnant. By that moment, a feeling of guilt had already taken its roots in his heart. His wife told him that he had to do something to save Anne because the King of England would never spare her life. Lady Elizabeth made a dreadful scandal, shouting at him that he would be burning in hell in his afterlife if he hadn't redeemed his mortal sins at least partly by saving Anne, if he hadn't saved George.

Then the Earl of Wiltshire made up his mind that he would try to do something to save Anne and to let her leave somewhere in Europe, in another country and under another name. He remembered about his old friend Count Jean de Montreuil whom he once saved on hunting in France and who felt obliged to him with his life. He knew that Jean had been living in the Republic of Venice for many years, which was neither a part of France where Anne could have been recognized nor the part of the Holy Roman Empire. It seemed to be an ideal variant for Anne to live there and quietly die there when her time came. Then he decided to risk and contact Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland who had always loved Anne and whose heart had been broken when their betrothal had been cancelled many years ago. Thomas Boleyn was lucky because it turned out to be that Henry Percy had already planned Anne's salvation on his own. He combined his strength with Henry Percy, and together they worked out the risky plan that finally proved to be effective.

She felt a lump in his throat, and she swallowed. "Master Kingston mentioned that my father refused to be the guardian of my son."

"Anne, it was the part of the plan. We don't need to be associated with you to avoid suspicions."

Anne tossed her head. The muscles of her face were tense, her jaw half clenched. "Any association with me is treason for his Majesty _King Henry VIII of England_," she hissed the words like a curse upon her tongue, as if she spoke of hell itself.

"Anne, please relax. You are no longer at the Tower of London now."

"I will try, Henry."

"I advised Cromwell to burn you at the stake," he confessed.

Anne felt that her blood froze. Her heart missed a beat and began pounding harder and harder. "Why did you do it?"

"It also was a part of our plan. Your father and I decided to fake your death. You understand that it would be much easier to achieve if the body of the executed person is indistinguishable, which, for example, can happen when the person is burnt as only ashes remain. In this case it is not necessary that exactly this condemned person dies in the fire. We were lucky that Cromwell was pushing King Henry so much to accelerate your execution. Given that the French executioner from _Calais_ couldn't come to London in December and, I suppose, under Cromwell's vigor, the King decided to change the method of execution from beheading to burning at the stake."

Anne blinked. "I am still confused." Her voice sounded like some amazed murmur. She tried to sit up, but Henry didn't let her do it.

"Anne, calm down. Please lie down for a while as we have time now. You need some time to wake up and feel better after the sleeping draught which we gave you yesterday."

"I am fine, Henry," Anne replied. "And who was burnt instead of me?"

"Another dead woman," he responded.

"But how is it possible?"

"One of your ladies, Lady Eleanor, was one of my people. Two guards at the Tower also were mine. As you were dressed for the execution, Lady Eleanor gave the sleeping draught to you. She also arranged you to be collected by two guards who were my people. They took you and in one of the corridors changed you for the body of the deceased woman who was dressed in the gown of the same color and of the same design."

"My Lord, how complicated it is!"

Henry's voice was good-natured. "Yes, Anne, it wasn't easy, but the result is positive, and I am happy that it is so."

Anne wanted to know the whole story. "Where did you take that poor deceased woman?"

"Anne, it doesn't matter. We didn't kill her. She is the criminal woman who was condemned to death and committed a suicide – she hanged herself. We just took her body to substitute it for your body."

"Oh, God. Dear God," Anne murmured.

"It doesn't matter now. Anne Boleyn is dead, and she will stay dead. My people are loyal to me. Actually, they are on the way to my castle in Northumberland now."

A strong afflux of tenderness and gratitude to Henry fulgurated Anne's heart. Her blue eyes locked with Henry's grey eyes. "Henry, thank you very much. Please also thank my father for his help. I greatly appreciate your efforts."

Henry was beaming. He let out a cherishing laugh. "It is fine, Anne. You know my attitude to you. It hasn't changed."

Fresh tears were oozing in the corners of the blue eyes, like tiny silver threads of pain. "I know, Henry. Thank you very much," Anne purred. "Please forgive me."

Henry tenderly brushed away her tears. "It is fine, Anne." He smiled at her with sentimental, subtle grace.

"Henry, do you know where is my son Arthur? Did Mary take him in her household?"

"How do you know about it?"

"Master Kingston told me that Mary had tried to talk to the King, but he refused to talk to her." Anne stated. A smile illuminated her pale face as she thought about Mary. "One of my ladies also told me that Mary had sent several petitions to Cromwell and to the King, but these petitions were ignored."

He smiled wistfully. "It is true that Mary tried to save you in a legal way. However, it turned out to be impossible, but it was predictable."

"Oh, I see," Anne breathed. "I am so happy that my son is now with my sister. At least he will have a family."

"Mary will take care of him. Please don't worry, Anne."

"Does Mary know that I am alive?"

"No, she doesn't. We decided not to tell her." Henry's voice's was a flat, unflinching baritone. "The fewer people know about our secret, the better it is. At least for now it is the best decision. We will see what we will do later."

"I agree." Anne shook her head in agreement. Then she stared at Henry, her gaze wild and desperate. "I betrayed Mary! When she married William Stafford, my father disinherited her and banished her from the family, and I didn't support my own sister. I also banished her from the court. And even after that Mary tried hard to save me." Her voice was trembling. Her heart was beating to suffocation. "God, what have I done?"

Henry furrowed his brows, alarm skittering through him. "Anne, it is not time to think about it now. You must be strong," he admonished as he looked at her with an intensive gaze. "Now please listen to me. We are running out of time. In two hours you will be on the ship sailing for _Calais_."

Anne shrugged. "How will I go if I don't have documents? I cannot travel as Anne Boleyn."

Henry smiled brightly and leaned nearer Anne. He placed a short, friendly kiss on her forehead. He was so happy that she was alive. "Anne, we have prepared the new documents for you. Now your name will be _Anne Gabrielle Marguerite de Ponthieu_, who is the only grandchild of _Jean Frédéric Roger de Ponthieu, Count de Montreuil_."

Anne raised her eyebrows. "Who is Monsieur Jean de Montreuil?"

"_Count Jean de Montreuil _is your father's close friend. Currently, Monsieur Jean de Montreuil lives in _the Republic of Venice_ where he had been serving for many years as the Ambassador of France before he had retired from his position several years ago. Monsieur Jean de Montreuil visited France several times while your father, Anne, was serving in France as the Ambassador of England. Your father got acquainted with Monsieur Jean in France when he saved him his life on hunting. After Monsieur Jean left his diplomatic career, he continued living in Venice. He doesn't plan to go back to France so far. He loves Venice." Henry paused. He cleared his throat.

Anne's eyes turned thoughtful. "Oh, it seems to me that I have heard about him once, if my memory serves me well."

"Good," Henry said. "Your father and I contacted Monsieur Jean, and he agreed to help us. Don't worry – he is a loyal, responsible man and knows what he is doing. Besides, for you coming to Venice is relatively safe because it is not the part of the Holy Roman Empire ruled by _Emperor Charles V_, the nephew of _Catherine of Aragon_."

Anne broke into a violent, loud laugh. "But I don't look like Anne de Ponthieu. And where is this woman herself?"

"Shhh, Anne," Henry warned her. "Please be quiet."

"I am sorry," she pronounced in a half whisper.

"Anne de Ponthieu is of the same age as you are. She passed away several months ago. She spent many years in the nunnery after she had finished her education there. Then that poor girl got married to a commoner from Hungary several years ago. After her marriage she disappeared for several years from the sight of French and Venetian nobles. Monsieur Jean kept that marriage in secret. Recently Madame Anne and her Hungarian husband both passed away somewhere in Hungary – smallpox took their lives," Henry enlightened Anne on the case. "Nobody in France and in Venice had seen Madame Anne de Ponthieu for a long, long time, for many years. Besides, Sir Thomas said that she was dark-haired like you are, so that it simplifies our task."

"Oh," Anne's lips parted.

"Don't be alarmed, Anne. In _Calais_ you will be met by the special person who was sent by Count Jean de Montreuil," he notified. He extracted from the bag two envelopes and handed them to her. "There are also two letters especially for you here. One of them is about the background of the Ponthieu-Montreuil family, and another one is from your father."

Anne took the letters in her hands. "I will read them once I board the ship."

"It is a wise decision." Henry winked at her. "I also prepared for you a large bag with several gowns, undergarments, and other accessories, as well as the purse with the money and with some jewelry. These should be enough for your journey."

Anne smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Henry." She sighed heavily as her thoughts drifted back to her children. "But how can I leave my children here in England?" Her voice was flat, but the tautness of her tone betrayed her emotional tumult.

"You must do it, Anne. We have no other way out of the situation. Later we will see what we can do."

"How is Elizabeth? Did Henry send her away from the court?"

Henry's lips twitched in tension. "The King declared your daughter Elizabeth a bastard and sent her away from the court to Woodstock Manor."

Anne felt blood draining from her face. She blanched. "It is an exile! An exile!" she cried out. "My poor girl! My dear sweet girl!" At that moment Anne hated _King Henry VIII_ wholeheartedly for how he treated their daughter.

"Unfortunately, it is so." Henry understood that Anne was very worried about her children. "Anne, I promise you that I will do my best to take care of your children. I will try to help and protect them as much as I can."

Anne's blue eyes twinkled. "Thank you, Henry."

"You are welcome, Anne." He smiled at her. "Now we must go, Madame Anne de Ponthieu. Please brace your energy and stand up. You will have more time to rest on the board of the ship."

Anne climbed to her feet as Henry helped her. She still felt a little weak, which was the result of her general emotional distress and the somniferous poison she had taken. Anne rubbed her temples and exhaled deeply. Finally, she felt better and was able to leave the carriage.

"Anne, I recommend you to take into account that your new French grandfather, Count Jean de Montreuil, was a close friend of _Charles d'Orléans, Count d'Angoulême, _a member of the French _Orléans _family descended from _Louis I de Valois, Duke d'Orléans_, who was the son of _Charles V of France_."

Anne clapped her hands in frustration. "As far as I remember, _Charles d'Orléans, Count d'Angoulême_, died in the end of the 15th century. And he also was the father of His Majesty _François I of France_." Her general emotional fatigue and anxiety were clearly and solidly embedded in her voice.

"Exactly."

A wrinkle marred her forehead. "In this case it might be dangerous because His Majesty _King François I_ knows me," she assumed. "If I ever meet His Majesty _King François I_, he will undoubtedly recognize me!"

"Anne, you are going to _the Republic of Venice_, not to France. I agree that you must be careful now," Henry supplied.

Anne's lips stirred in a similitude of smile. "Undoubtedly."

"Your father said that all other details you should discuss with Count Jean de Montreuil, who is not a fool. In addition, Monsieur Jean knows that you served at the French court as a lady-in-waiting for many years," Henry appeased her. He wanted to ease her concerns.

Henry Percy looked to his beloved ex-fiancée's face. Once more, their gazes locked. "Anne, you must stay calm and be prepared for a long journey across Europe."

"I will do my best to be calm," she said like a much-said prayer's response.

In an hour Anne boarded the ship to _Calais_ and was sailing away from England. Her heart was tearing apart in pain, but it was all that was left for her at that sad moment. At least if she was alive, she would still be able to know how her children were doing. She had a feeling of endless gratitude to Henry Percy and to her father, whom she didn't expect to be able to save his own daughter.

Anne Boleyn was dead. Anne Boleyn no longer existed in physical world. Yet, she was alive, simply having regenerated in utterly different image. It was as though Anne had embodied herself a dying-and-rising Goddess _Persephone_, who in Greek mythology was the daughter of _Zeus_ and the harvest-goddess _Demeter_ and the Goddess who explained the change of the seasons and the eternal cycle of the Nature's death and rebirth. It was the moment of her death and resurrection for Anne, the moment of life transformation.

As Anne boarded the ship, Henry Percy was leaving _Dover_ for London. He was overmastered with happiness that Anne was saved. He also hoped that he would somehow figure out how to prove Anne's innocence and how to show to the King that it was Cromwell and, possibly, the Seymour family, who engineered Anne's downfall and her further imprisonment. Anne was the only woman whom he had ever loved. It didn't matter for him that they had never been married and that she hadn't loved him in return. He wanted to help Anne as much as it was possible.

In the meantime, Lady Eleanor and two guards from the Tower of London, who helped Henry Percy and Thomas Boleyn to save Anne, were traveling to Northumberland to the residence of their master. They didn't notice how their carriage suddenly bumped into another carriage, which resulted in the terrible clash between two carriages that were moving at a high speed. The carriage with Henry's people lost its balance on the bumpy road and flopped over. The clash was so strong that all the servants had died on impact.

The death of Henry Percy's people was a doleful, tragic event because these people had risked their lives to release Anne Boleyn from the prison. Yet, it meant that there were fewer witnesses left who could confirm what exactly had happened in the Tower of London on the day of Anne's execution. Now only Thomas Boleyn and Henry Percy knew the truth.

* * *

**_December 3, 1536_****,** **_the_** **_Palace of Whitehall, London, England_**

Only two days passed since Anne Boleyn, the former Queen of England, was burnt at the stake as a witch. The ashes of the poor woman were dispersed over the Thames. It was King Henry's order not to bury the ashes. The King of England thought that it had a symbolical meaning in his life: if a heap of ashes was blown away by the wind, Anne would disappear from his life and he would easily forget her. The memory of Anne Boleyn was condemned by Henry to dark oblivion.

_King Henry VIII_ and Lady Jane Seymour were sitting in the King's Chambers. While the King was in the armchair, Jane was sitting on his knees. They were smiling and talking to each other.

Henry looked at Jane with devotion and adoration. "You are my angel," the King said in a honeyed voice.

Jane smiled shyly. Her cheeks were flushing. "Your Majesty is so kind," she purred.

"I am just stating the truth," Henry replied. "You were sent to me to save me and England." He meant that he had finally found an ideal woman who would give a male heir to him and save the country from bloody civil wars for succession.

Jane cast her eyes down. "Your Majesty," she murmured.

"Jane, sweetheart, will you marry me?" Henry questioned. His voice sounded soft. For an instance he recalled that his former wife Anne Boleyn had died two days ago, but he didn't want to postpone their engagement and their wedding. He couldn't wait more.

"Yes, I will," Jane replied with determination. A sweet smile animated her face. She replied without any shadow of hesitation. "Your Majesty, I will be happy to become your wife."

Henry smiled at Jane. He considered her to be a well-mannered, gentle, obedient, truthful, tender, and wise lady. For him she was an embodiment of everything pure and light. "Do you need some time to think, sweetheart?"

"No, I don't." Jane nodded in agreement. "Your Majesty, I would be honored to become your wife."

"Jane, sweetheart, you will be my Queen. I would be happy to marry you in two weeks, before Christmas and the New Year. I promise that we will have a grand wedding, and many festivities will follow the ceremony," he returned solicitously. He took her right hand and kissed it, his lips barely touching her ivory skin. Then his lips crushed on her lips, fiercely claiming them. "The whole England would celebrate with us," he added.

Jane smiled, her face alight with gladness. She felt her heart hammering harder and harder at the thought that she would become the Queen of England. Months ago, when King Henry offered to serve her, like Lancelot had served Queen Guinevere so many centuries ago in the Arthurian times, Jane couldn't have believed that the powerful King of England turned his attention to her, coming to her and pleading for her favor, as though she was the lord and the sovereign and he was the servant and the subject. Jane allowed him to do so, being greatly pleased and happy. Henry said to her that she had given him the honor of accepting his chivalrous love and deep devotion. At that moment she didn't know whether their relationship had any future, apart from possibility to become the King's mistress. But Jane was taught that she had to lose her innocence with her husband, not her lover, even if the King wanted to become her lover. Her brothers and sister ordered Jane that she had to tell the King that her maidenhead would be kept for her husband, stating that honor was above everything for her. Startled and pleased, the King appreciated her words and took even greater fancy to her.

Jane and her family carefully nurtured Henry's affection to her. Later, when Anne lost her child, Jane began to think that it was God's will not to let the Harlot have a son with the King of England, and at that time her family told her that she had a real chance to become the Queen and save the country from the Harlot and her greedy and ambitious relatives. When the charges against Anne became known in public, Jane was shocked and dumbfounded as she couldn't have believed that Anne, being the Queen, had dared to commit such terrible crimes, especially her incestuous relationship with her brother. Immediately after Anne's arrest and before the trial, her siblings assured Jane that Anne Boleyn's fate had been sealed and that she would soon become the Queen of England. Then King Henry said to her that he was going to marry her after Anne would be executed, which, however, had to be delayed due to the Harlot's discovered pregnancy. Finally, Anne Boleyn was burned at the stake, being punished for her crimes and mortal sins. Henry told Jane that Anne's crimes were so vile and so sacrilegious that Anne would have to forever atone for them. Her brothers Edward and Thomas said to Jane that the Harlot had been finally punished for the crimes against England. Jane believed her brothers and Henry because it was her duty to listen to her family and her future husband, her lord and her sovereign. At last, the Harlot was dead and no threat to her and her family. Jane won the battle with the Harlot. King Henry loved and worshiped her. She was happy with her triumph over Anne Boleyn. She was sure that she was destined to save England from the Harlot.

"I am very happy today," Jane declared truthfully.

"I am glad to hear it from you," Henry said. He smiled with a slow, broad smile. "I love you, Jane," he whispered, his smile growing wider.

However, as Henry looked at Jane, he saw not a blonde angel with pale skin and grey eyes, but a blue-eyed, raven-haired seductress. Henry shook his head in order to chase away the ghost of Anne Boleyn. Anne Boleyn, who bewitched him, lied to him, used him, and betrayed him, was dead. He finally got rid of her and left her behind. She was the whore and she paid for her crimes. Henry smiled at the thought that he had a bright future ahead, a future with Jane and their children. Soon the royal nursery would be filled with many princes, Henry dreamed. He expected to have the Prince of Wales and then the Duke of York within two years after their marriage. In his opinion, it just couldn't be otherwise with his pure Jane. He smiled again, and at that moment it was a sort of an unshadowed smile, touching his lips, leaving his eyes blank and not lighting his eyes from within. It was a sort of melancholic smile, but Jane didn't notice it because she didn't have great observational skills and because her mind was too simple to distinguish subtle changes in the King's frame of mind.

"I love you, Your Majesty," Jane blurted out, lowering her eyes, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I am so happy to be here with you!" she exclaimed with a sweet smile.

"It is my responsibility to take care of you, Jane, from now and thereafter," he responded, his voice low and tender. At that moment he wanted her, but he decided that he would wait till the wedding night to take her maidenhead.

"Your Majesty, I will try my best to be a good wife for you," Jane pledged.

Henry kissed her in her lips. "I know that you will," he muttered between the kisses.

Henry crushed his mouth on Jane's lips. His hand enveloping her hand squeezed her fingers. They united themselves to one another with promises of love and loyalty. They embraced each other and kissed each other as if they were two doves.

In the next days, Jane Seymour was very busy with the preparation of her wedding dress. The royal seamstresses spent several hours per day locked in the Seymour family's apartments. Jane swore to herself that the French influence that had flourished under Anne Boleyn, the Harlot how Jane and her family referred to her, would be utterly wiped out because she preferred everything to be "pure English", including fashions, manners, and colors. She decided that she wouldn't wear even the French hood that was so popular at the English court because of the Harlot's influence. As she liked rich fabrics, heavy with brocade and jewels, she was going to wear the beautiful English wedding gown made of heavy white brocade, with the moderately square-cut neckline and with the front embroiled with numerous pears and laced with gold. She decided that her wedding dress would be made in the traditional conservative English style, as opposed to extravagant and eccentric French style.

* * *

**_December 10, 1536_****,** **_Château de Fontainebleau, Fontainebleau, France_**

_King François I of France_ and his elder sister _Marguerite de Navarre, _the Queen of Navarre and the wife of _Henry II of Navarre,_ were sitting together in the so-called _François I Gallery_ at _the Château de Fontainebleau_. The gallery, with its frescoes framed in stucco by _Rosso Fiorentino_, was the first great decorated gallery built in France. _The François I Gallery _was a strictly private place, and François kept the key to it always with him. He often spent many hours here locked from the problems of the outside world, together with his sister Marguerite or his _maîtresse en titre Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes. _The Gallery was built to link the King's Chamber to the gallery of _the Trinitarian monks' chapel_ or _the chapel of La Trinité_.

Located in the forest which had been the hunting preserve of the Capetian Kings of France, _the Château de Fontainebleau _was the largest French royal châteaux. It was the grandeur and magnificent Italianate preeminent palace which combined in its architectural design the Renaissance and the French artistic traditions. In 1527, François invited the architect _Gilles le Breton_ to start renovations on Fontainebleau. _Gilles le Breton_ erected most of the buildings of _the Cour Ovale_, including _the Porte Dorée_, the southern entrance to the palace, and _the Cour du Cheval Blanc_, as well as _the chapel of La Trinité_. The Gardens of _the Château de Fontainebleau_, created by _King François I_ starting from 1528, were breathtakingly beautiful. The Gardens featured symmetrical and geometric planting parterres, plants in pots, fountains, a forest of pine trees brought from Provence, as well as the first artificial grotto in France.

_The Château de Fontainebleau_ was the King's jewel and the subject of his pride. François often came to stay at Fontainebleau, and he liked it so much that when he spoke of going there, he referred to it as "going home". It was the King's favorite royal residence.

Today the royal siblings mirrored each other in the color of their clothing. François was dressed in the doublet of mulberry velvet with snow white slashing, the black velvet Venetian pants, and the black taffeta shirt with the standing lace collar. His toque was mulberry velvet, plumed with one large white ostrich feather. The sleeves of his doublet were covered with rubies and sapphires. His sister Marguerite was wearing the extravagant French gown, with the low square-shaped neckline and the tight sleeves, the upper part of the gown made from mulberry velvet with white slashing and the ample skirt made from black velvet. The small skull-cap of mulberry velvet was splendidly embroidered with rubies and diamonds and set amidst her dark curls.

King François was reading a letter from his Ambassador in France, _Philippe de Chabot, seigneur de Brion, Count de Charny and de Buzançois, _known as _Admiral de Brion_. His face was impenetrable, his eyes taking in the contents of the letter. Marguerite realized that something awful had happened as she saw how François had crumpled up angrily the sheet of paper in his hand.

Marguerite stared at him. "What happened, François?"

François and Marguerite were the children of _Charles d'Orléans, Count d'Angoulême_, and _Louise de Savoie_ and great-great-grandchildren of _King Charles V_. François and Marguerite had always been very close and addressed to each other by the first names. They adored each other. They both were the highly cultured, erudite, and learned people. Both François and Marguerite were proficient in Latin, Hebrew, Spanish, and Italian, and read philosophy and theology. They were fascinated by Italian Renaissance art. Always eager to acquire new ideas, they supported many of the illustrious writers and thinkers of her time. These two siblings together were responsible for the celebrated intellectual and cultural French court, both being outstanding figures of the French Renaissance. François was a true Renaissance man and Marguerite was a true Renaissance woman.

Being married to the unintelligent _Charles, Duke d'Alençon_, Marguerite started establishing her own power and authority upon her brother's ascension to the throne in 1515. She joined her brother at court and remained a close companion and friend to him. Indeed, Marguerite always served and actively supported the interests of _King François I_, assisted the interests of political and religious clients, as well as defended and protected her family and household. When François was taken as a prisoner in Italy, Marguerite was instrumental in securing his eventual release. After the death of her first husband, she remarried to _Henri d'Albret, King of Navarre_, in 1527. Despite being married and having one child, Marguerite spent much time at François' court and remained an active and driving force behind many of her brother's decisions. She was also interested in spiritual aspects in addition to political ones, especially in the new religious movements. François always trusted his sister and was truly interested in her opinion on various political matters.

King François sighed heavily. After what seemed an eternity, the King of France finally turned to face his sister. With a sidelong look of sorrow, he spoke. "Anne Boleyn is dead," he announced.

"Finally dead," Marguerite echoed, regret creeping into her voice.

François shook his head as though he had tried to remove a feeling of unreality from his mind. "Marguerite, you cannot imagine how she died."

"Did Henry hire the French executioner from _Calais_ as it was initially planned?" she asked with alarm in her voice. She saw that François was shocked with what he read in the letter.

"Henry didn't need to hire the French executioner." François shook his head in disbelief because he still found it hard to accept how Anne Boleyn had been executed. He took a deep breath so that he might continue. "My _brother_ Henry burnt Anne Boleyn at the stake, like a common witch." The King's low, rumbling voice cut the air with a sharp edge of anger and bitterness. "What a kind-hearted and fair King we have in England." He didn't mean to be so sarcastic, but those sharp words poised on the tip of his tongue like a drawn sword in his hand. He couldn't help himself and spoke.

Marguerite gasped in horror. "Oh Lord! Oh my dear, dear Lord!" She exhaled sharply.

François grimaced. "At times I tend to think that Henry is an epitome of devilish wickedness."

"Brother, I can agree with you. Henry has a wicked heart." Like François, Marguerite also didn't like talking about the monarchs of other countries in such a way, but Henry Tudor was doing things which were too wild and too immoral. And, like her brother, she couldn't refrain from expressing her opinion, especially knowing that it was only between her and him. "In addition, Henry is easily blinded by anger, and when it happens he cannot think logically and see the truth."

"It doesn't matter how anger influences Henry. He had no right to use this dreadful method of execution for the anointed Queen, even if he thought that she had been guilty," François stated.

Marguerite sighed with a bitter sigh of both sorrow and anger. "Even a blind fool can see that she was innocent, especially given the annulment of their marriage."

With an impatient gesture, François pushed the erratic tangle of his chestnut hair from his face. "Lady Anne was an incredible woman. She was a woman very different from anyone I have ever met and certainly quite different from anyone at the English court and even at the French court," he said genuinely. He swept his eyes over the Gallery, fixing them on the painted frescoes on the stuccoed interior from on the right from his chair. "I would mourn for her death."

"And so will I," Marguerite replied. "I always liked Anne Boleyn, although I didn't support that Henry had so cruelly abandoned _Catherine of Aragon_ to marry Anne."

François shook his head in disbelief. "Marguerite, I could have never imagined that Henry could be such a barbarian."

In King Henry, François found everything he detested in a King – Henry was a hedonist obsessed only with a quest of power and pleasure. They have always been rivals since the moment when the young Kings of France and of England had a physical fight in _Calais_, during _the Field of the Cloth of Gold_, all those years ago. When in 1535 the French ambassador informed François that Henry's feelings for Anne were cooling steadily as she didn't give him a son and as the King had new amorous conquests, he expected that Henry would probably divorce Anne, but he couldn't predict that the English King would overstep all the possible boundaries and burn Anne at the stake.

"It is such a turbulent moment for the Tudors. What Henry did is so…so…" Marguerite trailed off, trying to find a word.

"Monstrous," François called out.

"Uncivilized," she offered another word.

"Unfair," he added.

"Even foolish from the political standpoint," she commented.

An image flickered in his mind, little more than a vague impression – the King of France saw a charming, alluring, dancing seductress who appeared in front of him with a white mask on her face in _Calais _and gracefully danced with had never forgotten that meeting with Anne. "Even though Anne Boleyn wasn't recognized as the Queen by at least the half of Europe, she was anyway the crowned Queen," the King of France said.

When King Henry expressed his willingness to divorce Queen Catherine and marry Anne Boleyn, François thought that the King of England would soon change his mind over time. However, years were passing, but Henry was stubborn and persistent in his intentions. As the French King's relations with the Emperor were highly strained, François was anxious to keep the friendship of the Pope and to have an alliance with England. Thus, in 1531 he undertook some diplomatic steps to bring England and Rome together and raised the matter that Henry could have finally received the papal divorce he had so long struggled for. François demonstrated his desire to support the marriage, and it was agreed that a meeting would be held in _Calais_ in October of 1532. It was initially supposed that Marguerite d'Angoulême, François' sister, and other French noblewomen would attend the meeting. However, much later Marguerite withdrew her consent, pleading ill-health as the reason for her absence. Of course, it was a polite way to conceal Marguerite's disapproval of Henry's second marriage. In the end, it was decided that no ladies would be officially present on the French side, while the English were assumed to be represented by Anne and several English noblewomen, including Anne' sister Mary Boleyn who was François' former mistress, and Anne's Aunt Dorothy Stanley Howard, the Countess of Derby, one of her supporters.

During their private meeting in _Calais, _François gave the implicit support to Anne for her marriage to Henry. François sent Anne wedding gifts and warm congratulations with the birth of Elizabeth Tudor, but he didn't officially acknowledge Anne as the Queen of England while Catherine was still alive. He acted in that manner because of political reasons, not because of his personal dislike of Anne. The controlling reality was that François had to maintain good relations with the Pope as the King of the Roman Catholic country. The King of France also couldn't sharpen the existing hostility and hatred between France and the Holy Roman Empire because he didn't wish to have another immediate public confrontation with the Emperor at the stage when he was preparing for another war with the Emperor. When Bishop Fisher and Thomas More were executed, François was truly shocked with the expense of the Reformation in England and even made some unpleasant comments about Anne's morals, which lowered the temperature of Anglo-French relations, but earned the more prolonged break for France before the escalation of the new conflict with the Emperor in the Italian wars. All François' movements towards England and public statements about Anne Boleyn were purely political.

"After the death of Queen Catherine, Henry's first wife, it seemed that nobody could dispute the legitimacy of her marriage to King Henry," Marguerite declared.

"Nobody, except for the King of England," François clarified.

"Indeed, the King of England made himself the most powerful man in the kingdom."

Muted, unclear sparkle flared up and quenched in the King's amber eyes. "It is interesting that Henry introduced so many revolutionary changes for Anne Boleyn, and these changes gave him an absolute power in the country. England is a perfect example of an absolute monarchy now." He secretly envied Henry that he was an absolute monarch in his country.

King François firmly believed in absolutism. He was the first King of France to be addressed as "Your Majesty", a title previously held by the Holy Roman Emperor. François expanded royal power at the expense of the nobility by absorbing into the royal possession the last great semi-independent fiefdoms: the lands of the Duke of Bourbon starting from 1523; the lands of Alenç starting from 1525; and the lands of Albret by the marriage of his sister Marguerite to _Henry II d'Albret, King of Navarre_, in 1527. Finally, the lands of Burgundy in 1529 were included into the territory of the country by special royal decree. The Duchy of Brittany, administered separately by François' first wife, Queen Claude, was brought under the direct administrative control of the King in 1535. Yet, some French lands were ruled by powerful and autonomous dukes, and François never forgot about them. There also were many bureaucratic reforms directed at centralization. François was the first monarch who brought the sale of government offices strictly under the auspices of royal officials for the profit of the Crown. In order to unite the country, in 1530, the King declared French the national language of the kingdom, and that same year opened the _Collège des trois langues_, or _Collège Royal_. In addition, the King and his ministers were working on the edict that would make French the administrative language of the kingdom as a replacement for Latin. However, despite high level of centralization implemented by King François, he wasn't an absolute monarch whose power was nearly unlimited in the country.

Marguerite stared at one of the Italian Renaissance paintings on the wall. "And these radical changes also eventually killed the person for the sake of whom they were made." Melancholic notes crawled in her tone. "It is a dark irony of fate."

"Greatness has its price, and at times this price may be very high," François retorted.

"To achieve greatness in life, we must live as though we would never die," the King's sister continued to speculate.

"There is also greatness in death," François supplemented. "Anne Boleyn achieved greatness and died. And even in her death she cultivated an air of greatness around herself." He drew a deep breath, his right hand briefly touching his forehead. "Anne Boleyn's death is an event people of England will remember forever. They had already embedded the moment in their mind," he proclaimed.

"The common people of England might remember Anne Boleyn's death as an act of tyranny stemming from absolute monarchy," she suggested in a firm tone. "A monarch should be moderate and wise in his desire to demonstrate his power and his authority, especially in absolute monarchies."

François laughed moodily. "You are lecturing, again!"

Marguerite cocked her head and smiled. "Yes, I am."

"Henry was influenced by humanism only in his early youth. Later he stopped supporting humanistic trends in the English society. He was corrupted by the absolute power," François admitted.

"Unfortunately, it is so." Marguerite's lips parted and she sighed as her mind reproduced the rumors about Anne's little motherless infant. "Did the ambassador write what had happened to Anne Boleyn's child? Whom did she give birth to?"

François sat forward in his wooden chair with a squeak. "There are rumors that she gave birth to the son who was taken in the custodianship by Lady Mary Stafford, Anne Boleyn's sister. I am sure that it is the King's son. I don't believe in those ridiculous accusations."

"In this case Henry committed blasphemy," Marguerite said as though to herself. She crossed herself. "I suppose that the common people are very much displeased."

"Philippe de Chabot wrote that there are a lot of dark rumors among commoners. The common people are keeping silent, but many of them have gloomy thoughts. They didn't expect that Lady Anne would be executed so soon after the birth of her child and in such a specific manner. Many people also doubt the charges brought against Lady Anne," he supplied.

Marguerite's thin mouth frowned as she stared down on her lap. "I couldn't expect other reaction."

"The Seymour family and their supporters are pleased," François added. "The power of the Seymour faction will considerably strengthen now."

"Oh, François, it is understandable."

"Henry announced that he is going to marry Lady Jane Seymour before Christmas," François added.

Marguerite glared up at him. She shook her head in disapproval. "This is distasteful and indecent. Henry truly creates the image of a tyrant in Europe," she exclaimed, glazed stare burning with irritation.

François and Marguerite shared a worried, lamentable glance.

"Definitely not a perfect image," François suggested. He was always cautious in his words. "I wonder how long Lady Jane Seymour will stay the Queen if she doesn't provide the King of England with a male heir." He settled back in the chair.

"I guess Lady Jane will also be set aside if she fails to have a boy," Marguerite concluded. "What did you decide to do with your own miserable marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_?"

"Ha!" François laughed a short, withering bark. "You know that I am fed up with the number of _the Holy Roman Emperor's_ spies at the court. _Emperor_ _Charles V_ is my enemy."

Marguerite gave a worried glance to her brother. "What will you do?"

The King of France smiled with caution and collusion. "Wait and see, sister." As Marguerite's gaze turned more suspicious, he went on. "Sister, don't worry about Queen Eleanor. I am not Henry - I won't murder her. I will try to have our marriage annulled by the Pope. It was a forced marriage, so that I am likely to succeed."

Marguerite smiled at these words. "Oh, François, you will never be like Henry. And the Pope likes you. I hope you will be free soon."

François and Marguerite shared a bemused half smile.

The King of France let out a sigh. "Marguerite, I am dreaming of sending _Eleanor of Austria_ back to _Charles V_, her brother."

Marguerite rubbed at her tight jaw with her fingertips. "Brother, you know that if you annul this marriage, _Charles V_ will be in a towering rage."

François smiled at her with a devil-may-care smirk. "My dear sister, the Italian war had already started in 1536 when the French army captured Turin and the whole Piedmont last year. There will be other battles in the Northern Italy next year. The war may continue for years. Thus, the annulment of the marriage to Eleanor will contribute very little to my and the Emperor's intentions to control a part of Italy by conquest."

Marguerite also smiled ironically. "You are right, François. An annulment of the marriage won't stop the ongoing war in Italy."

"At least I will no longer be tied to the sister of my most vicious enemy – _Charles V_," François whispered. "At least I won't have to see every day the woman whom I don't like and whom I would never like." The last words were said so quite that the sound vibrated in his chest.

Marguerite had disliked _Eleanor of Austria_ right from the beginning because François had been forced to marry her by the Emperor. She wanted her brother to be happy and possibly remarry a woman whom he at least liked and respected, even if not loved. "May God help us to annul your marriage," she murmured.

* * *

**_I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help._**

_How do you like my Henry Tudor? Cromwell is playing with Henry. Henry was a man who was easily enraged and influenced, and his anger often blinded him like it happened when he ordered to change the method of Anne's execution._

_I wanted Anne to be burnt at the stake because it lets better fake the death. I did my best to make this part of Anne's imprisonment and escape from London interesting._

_Anne Gabrielle Marguerite de Ponthieu and Jean Frédéric Roger de Ponthieu, Count de Montreuil are fictional names of the characters. __However, there indeed was the County of Ponthieu in France, and there were many Counts of Ponthieu and of Montreuil. However, in the 16th century it was the royal domain, and no nobles were holding the title. Therefore, I used it in my story in order to be closer to reality._

_In the next chapter we have Anne in Venice. François is also going to Italy because of the Italian War with Emperor Charles V, dated historically from 1536 to 1539. It is going to be an interesting chapter._

_Please let me know what you think about this chapter, I am very interested in your feedback._

**_Reviews are very much appreciated. Your reviews let me keep going. _****_I need them. Thank you in advance._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**The Knight-King and his savior**

**_April 1, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England_**

_King Henry VIII_ was sitting on the throne in the huge great hall. On the left side from him, his wife Queen Jane Seymour was sitting, while his daughter Lady Mary Tudor occupied the seat to the left from Jane. _Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk_, and _Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk_, were standing on the right from Henry Tudor. _Edward Seymour, 1st Viscount Beauchamp_, and Thomas Seymour were on the left side from Queen Jane.

Henry thought back to several months ago. During Anne's arrest and imprisonment at the Tower of London, Jane Seymour left the court for Wolf Hall in Wiltshire where she was born and spent her childhood. As it became clear that Anne's execution had been postponed due to her pregnancy, Henry gave Jane and her family a magnificent mansion in Chelsea, which was located only one mile from _the Palace of Whitehall_. Upon that move, Jane and her family had a vast array of Henry's royal servants to serve them. Jane was lavished with gifts and gowns and was already treated like a future Queen. When Anne Boleyn was burnt at the stake in the beginning of December 1536, King Henry married Jane Seymour just two weeks after his second wife Anne Boleyn had been burnt at the stake. He hadn't dared even to wait a month to marry. He wanted to have his pure Jane as his wife.

Henry glanced at Jane and smiled with a broad smile. He was happy that he was married to Jane, not to the Whore Anne Boleyn. In contrast to Anne Boleyn, Jane deserved being loved and worshiped by the King of England. Anne and Jane were so opposite to each other. Jane was everything that Anne Boleyn was not: she was quiet, reserved, mild, even-tempered, and humble, and she was willing to do what was asked or ordered, without asking any questions or biting back. Henry knew that Jane wasn't very well educated compared to the intelligent and broad-minded Anne, but it wasn't the most important aspect for him. Jane was exactly what Henry was looking for in a wife and in the Queen of England. Henry thought that he loved Jane Seymour from the bottom of his heart. He believed that he loved her even more than he had loved Anne Boleyn. She was his treasure and his happiness. She was the light in the darkness that was created by Anne Boleyn.

As a wedding gift King Henry made Jane Seymour a grant of more than one hundred manors in four countries as well as a number of forests and hunting chases. It was said that the income from these possessions would support Jane during their marriage. The couple married at _the Palace of Whitehall _in the Queen's closet by Archbishop Cranmer. The wedding party slowly proceeded through London streets. Later Queen Jane was introduced to the court. Feasts, jousts, and other entertainments in honor of the royal wedding followed.

Most importantly, King Henry wanted to get Jane pregnant as soon as possible. Henry wasn't disappointed because his beloved Jane proved herself to be a good wife as she fell pregnant rather quickly after their marriage. In April 1537, Jane was around two months along in her pregnancy. Henry was overjoyed with happiness and was sure that God blessed his marriage to Jane.

Henry forbade the courtiers to wear mourning for the death of Queen Anne. He said that it wasn't necessary to do it in the light of Anne's crimes against the King and England. In addition, he ordered to burn Anne's clothes and all her things. He instructed the royal goldsmith to melt down many of Anne's expensive exquisite jewelry sets, which he granted to her as gifts when he had loved her and had been ready to put the whole world to her legs. A lot of Anne's portraits and even miniatures were liquidated. He wanted to forget Anne Boleyn and everything associated with her. Even an indirect reference to Anne Boleyn could be considered to be high treason.

After the marriage to Jane, King Henry and Thomas Cromwell worked out a new document - _the Second Succession Act_ of 1536, which declared Henry's children by Jane to be only legitimate heirs to the throne in the line of succession and declared both Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth illegitimate, thus excluding them from the throne.

Henry smiled to himself because he also saw another good practical side of his marriage to Jane. Jane managed to reconcile Henry with Lady Mary, his long-estranged daughter with _Catherine of Aragon,_ his first wife. Lady Mary came back to the court right before Christmas and agreed to sign the Oath. Henry suspected that Mary didn't want that, but she had no other choice. Thus, Mary recognized Henry as the head of the Church of England, repudiated the papal authority, and acknowledged the marriage between her parents unlawful, thus marking herself to be illegitimate.

Henry sent Lady Elizabeth away from the court as he didn't want to see his daughter. It was because she reminded him about Anne. Elizabeth's blue eyes seemed to be accusing Henry of something, while her elegance and grace, which were so rare for such a little girl to possess, infuriated Henry. He also declared in front of the court that Elizabeth wasn't his daughter, although he knew that it wasn't truth. It was his anger at her mother, which had blinded him.

King Henry cast a warm glance at Queen Jane. She looked charming in her silver muslin gown, which was set off with gold lace and which fitted her body rather tightly. Her long blonde hair was left down, half secured by the jeweled English hood. Rubies and diamonds were weaved in her hair with the thinnest gold thread. The massive oval cut diamonds necklace was placed around her neck. Henry bent his head to Jane. "Sweetheart, how are you feeling?" he asked Jane.

"Your Majesty, I am perfectly well," Jane answered humbly and cast her eyes down. As usual, she spoke quietly, in a soft, caressing voice.

At that moment, Jane was happy. She had everything she was dreaming about. She was the Queen of England. She was happy that she was married to Henry whom she considered to be a glorious, handsome, charming man. Since the King had asked Jane to allow him to serve and worship her, like Lancelot served Guinevere, as he put it, she had been smitten with his powerful presence and with the regal very air of him. Their courtship wasn't long, but it was romantic, except for the moments when the Harlot Anne Boleyn had showed her short temper and thrown sharp tantrums of jealousy at Jane. Jane was delighted and proud that such a powerful and unique man had served and loved her. Jane had fallen in love with Henry after he had begun to court her, and she thought that the King had also loved her. In addition, now Jane was carrying the future heir to the throne. She just hoped that her child was a boy. Unlike the Harlot's marriage to the King, Jane's marriage was lawful and thus they would surely be blessed by the Almighty.

Henry smiled at his wife. "Soon we will have our son in the cradle. I am looking forward to having him in my arms," he said happily.

Jane smiled faintly. "Yes, Your Majesty." Each time when Henry was talking about the boy she shuddered inwardly. She prayed that her child was a son.

Henry stared at Jane. "If you are tired, you may retire, Jane."

"No, Your Majesty, I am fine." Her voice was soft and low. She was always talking in that modest way – softly and quietly. Jane proclaimed for herself her motto to be "_bound to obey and serve_."

Henry beamed at her. "I am happy to hear it." His gaze fixed at the massive oval cut diamonds necklace around his wife's neck. "Did you like my last gift, sweetheart?"

"Your Majesty, I love it very much. Thank you very much for this gift," she whispered, touching the necklace and looking sweetly at her husband's face. "It is very beautiful."

Henry smiled eagerly. His gaze was ever-penetrating, his aquamarine orbs betraying his passion and zealousness to finally get what he had been dreaming about for a long, long time. "I trust you will give me the most important gift quite soon."

Jane smiled timidly, knowing what the King implied. "I am praying to God to give this greatest gift to you," she answered quietly. At that moment, she felt a cold shiver running down her spine. There was so much impatience in his gaze and so much anticipation. She prayed every day that she was carrying a boy.

As Jane started talking to Lady Mary, Henry glanced away. He scanned the room, his eyes drifting from one courtier to another one. The courtiers were chatting, eating, some of them were dancing. Everything was standard and nothing has changed. And it was the same month after month. He was bored. He wanted fire and dynamic, but everything in the past months proved to be pure routine.

Suddenly, a thought struck Henry – not always everything was so boring. There were times when there were wonderful merry and entertaining parties and banquets at the court. But it was when another woman was ruling over the court. It was again about her. It was again about Anne. Henry cursed silently. He wanted to forget Anne, and he would do it, he swore.

Henry's aquamarine eyes wandered across the room and stopped on the raven-haired lady dressed in the extravagant French gown of yellow velvet. The gown had a very low, square-cut neckline, and he hungrily stared at the lady's bosom. The lady's hair was arranged in the French fashion: her dark curls round the face and falling on the neck. That lady was vivacious and was laughing, her laugh so melodious and so similar to _her_ laugh. Her style of clothing was also so similar to that of _hers_.

Henry bent his head to Charles. "Charles, who is that beautiful Lady?" he murmured quietly.

Charles glared ahead. "Your Majesty, do you mean the lady in the yellow gown?"

"Yes, Charles," Henry confirmed.

"It is Lady Ursula Misseldon. She serves as a lady-in-waiting at Her Majesty Queen Jane's household."

"I like her," Henry declared straightforwardly.

Charles smirked. "Your Majesty needs my help?" It was as usual – Charles Brandon often helped Henry to fetch a new woman in his bed. The same happened to Lady Eleanor Luke several years ago.

"I don't mind your help," Henry answered with a smile.

Charles sighed heavily. He realized why Henry wanted Lady Ursula. She was so different from the sweet impassive Queen Jane. She was so much more similar to Anne Boleyn. "Your Majesty, why this woman, if I may ask?"

Henry frowned. "I like her," he answered simply.

That night was the first one when King Henry bedded his new mistress Lady Ursula Misseldon, who eagerly agreed to meet the King in his bedchamber in the night. He was the King and had any right to have as many mistresses as he desired, especially when his wife was in a family way. It was his right as a monarch and as a sovereign, Henry speculated.

Under the cover of the night, King Henry was lying near his new mistress, Lady Ursula Misseldon. Snuggling closer to him under the bedcovers, Lady Ursula was peacefully sleeping. Henry gazed at the face of his new mistress. Lady Ursula was as unconventionally beautiful as Anne Boleyn was. Both of them had enigmatic, dark, seductive appearance that attracted Henry both mentally and physically. He took Lady Ursula three times in a passionate dance of physical love during one night because now, without _her_, the need for fire and for passion returned with the dark fury of a tempest, and this time neither wine nor sleep could quell it. Jane wasn't capable of giving that fire to him, but she was music to his ears and balsam on the wounds of his heart, the wounds caused by _her_. Henry summoned Ursula Misseldon to his chambers because he thought that there would be no rest and no release until he took Lady Ursula as wildly as he often used to take Anne Boleyn. However, he was mistaken. When his mistress drifted to sleep, loneliness and vehement desire for fire returned. His heart ached without ceasing because of _her_ as _she_ continued haunting him even after _her_ death. Lady Ursula was not Anne Boleyn – _his_ Anne was dead. Henry's gaze wandered across his private chambers. He remembered that he had spent many nights with Anne in the same room and on the same bed. During their short turbulent marriage, his chambers were filled with their so-called "love" and passion. Even Henry's bed was the symbol of their love and passion. When he thought that Anne had loved him, everything in his chambers and in every corner of the palace – from the ceiling beams to the embroidered slipcovers – symbolized their tastes and their life together. Yet, despite everything Henry had done to make Anne happy, she betrayed him when she had slept with those executed men in a desperate attempt to conceive a child. Anne Boleyn was the Harlot, the Whore, who had never loved him, Henry persuaded himself. He again glared at Lady Ursula, but he saw another face, _her_ face. Henry silently cursed and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. He would forget _her_, he swore.

* * *

**_April 15, 1537, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Several months passed since the moment when Anne, Anne Boleyn and the Marquess of Pembroke in her former life, had arrived in Venice, the capital of _the Republic of Venice_, formally known as _the Most Serene Republic of Venice_ or _Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia_ in Italian.

Anne was absolutely fascinated by the city of Venice sited on a group of numerous small islands separated by canals and linked by bridges. The city had many names, among which the most infamous were "_Serenissima_", "_Queen of the Adriatic_", "_City of Water_", and "_City of Canals_". Although she had never been there before, she found it immensely interesting place to live.

Venice was one of the foremost and the most beautiful cities of Italian Renaissance. Splendid imposing palaces, cathedrals and churches revealed the high level of development of Venice's economy and its society. Countless canals and waterways symbolized the most miraculous facilities in urban planning, giving the whole city undeniably romantic, glamorous ambience.

Anne arrived in _the Republic of Venice_ at the beginning of January 1537. Her trip to Venice was long and time-consuming, but carefully planned as she was indeed met by the man in _Calais_, as Henry Percy told her. In her trip to Venice she was always accompanied by the trusted and the loyal people sent by _Count Jean de Montreuil. _The most nervous part of her trip was the time they spent in France as Anne was always afraid that she would be met by someone who could recognize her, which became a sort of mania for her in the past months.

In Venice Anne was met by _Jean Frédéric Roger de Ponthieu, Count de Montreuil_. She settled at his house - _the Palazzo Montreuil_. The man greeted Anne warmly and seemed to accept her, but she still saw that he was cautious and was constantly observing her, especially in the first days after her arrival from England to Venice. It didn't come as an unexpected event for Anne because she knew that Monsieur Jean had known who she had been in reality and why she had had to change her identity.

_Count Jean de Montreuil_ was a tall man, with clever dark brown eyes. Monsieur Jean had grizzled hair that had been of deep brunette color in his youth and in adulthood. He was between sixty five and seventy years old, older than her father was. He could be Anne's natural grandfather.

Anne liked Monsieur Jean, who was supposed to be her new French "grandfather", from the first sight. And the more time was passing, the more she liked him. They spent much time talking about art, literature, music, and politics, the latter being the most favorite topic for the French ex-diplomat. They were living in a very intellectual atmosphere. Anne saw that the old man had expressed an undeniable approval of her intellect and education she had received at the French court of _King François I_. Monsieur Jean was proud that it was his country – France – which made Anne such a cultured lady. In turns, Anne considered Monsieur Jean to be an epitome of the best French aristocracy as he was gentle and kind, caring and attentive, gallant and highbred, and, of course, very well educated and immensely broad-minded. Monsieur Jean was a true Renaissance man who was influenced very much by Renaissance humanism.

As soon as Anne arrived in Venice, Monsieur Jean hired several seamstresses to produce for her new clothes. The gowns were made in accordance with the latest French fashion. As a result, soon Anne had a multitude of fashionable, gorgeous, and extravagant gowns, which perfectly fitted her, stressing her unconventional beauty. Monsieur Jean also bought numerous beautiful headpieces and jewels, also in the French fashion. When Anne was at the Tower of London, she wore only plain dark-colored gowns and almost no jewelry. Now when she was again allowed to have extravagant rich clothing, she was delighted to return to her old habits in fashion.

Anne was feeling slightly numb at Monsieur Jean's generosity and attentiveness because these actions were rather surprising for her. After all, she was just a woman without the past and, possibly, even without the future, if she was discovered by somebody else. She always thanked heartily her "grandfather", often saying that she didn't need so many gifts. Monsieur Jean always objected, stating that Anne had to accept gowns, jewelry, and other accessories because she was supposed to be his "granddaughter." Very soon Anne realized that her French "grandfather" was trying to please her with all his heart, and without any fraudulent intentions. Although Anne wasn't a Queen anymore, she felt like a Princess in a fairy-tale because a great deal of care and affection enveloped her at Monsieur Jean's house. She couldn't say for sure that she missed her position as a Queen because she didn't want to have another analogous near-death experience. There were too many dangers and negative aspects of holding great power. Yet, Anne missed the times when she, as the Queen of England, was a hostess of grand festivities, banquets, and jousts. She had been in the center of attention since her early youth, even when she hadn't been the Queen of England, and she admitted that she missed that.

Count Jean de Montreuil was an old lonely man whose only son _Guillaume Jean Frédéric de Ponthieu_, together with his wife Jeanne, had died of the plague around fifteen years ago, leaving him his only granddaughter _Anne Gabrielle Marguerite de Ponthieu_. The little girl was placed into one of the convents in the South of France to receive her education there; she hadn't lived with her grandfather who had been serving as the ambassador of France to different countries on the Italian Peninsula, mainly in the Republic of Venice. Once young Anne turned twenty, she left the convent and traveled to her grandfather to the Republic of Venice. However, young Anne had only spent several months in Venice before she married a Hungarian commoner and left for Hungary. She had lived in Hungary several years when the smallpox claimed her own life and the life of her husband, leaving Monsieur Jean was left alone in the world.

Anne needed to be sure that she had known the lineage and the history of the County of Ponthieu by heart. She learnt the names of various Counts and Countesses and the major events associated with the Ponthieu noble house. She studied their biographies and even discussed them with Monsieur Jean.

It was only a matter of luck that Monsieur Jean didn't have many relatives and that his deceased granddaughter Anne hadn't been seen by the majority of the French nobles and the Venetian nobles. Before Anne came to Venice, Monsieur Jean had dismissed half of his old servants and hired new ones, leaving only highly trusted people in his household.

However, still many risks existed on the other side – there were many French nobles who knew Anne Boleyn. Anne appeased herself with the thought that they were not going to France in the near future. There were people who accompanied her from Calais across France to the Venetian Republic. There were people who could have probably known the real _Anne Gabrielle Marguerite de Ponthieu_, even if they were from Hungary.

Anne's life was unpredictable and uncertain. She was dead, but she also was alive. It was a shadowy life she could only lead. It wasn't very easy for her to accept her new role and to live with it, especially to live under a false name. She accepted that her life-death-rebirth path would be unpredictable, dangerous, and fathomless. The only things that were left for Anne at that moment were resignation, meekness, and expectation.

* * *

**_May 1, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England_**

Thomas Cromwell was calm for the first time in the last two years. His position was now stronger than ever, and everything seemed to be going well for him. Anne Boleyn and the Boleyns were out of the way. King Henry was content with his new marriage to Jane Seymour who was carrying his child and the heir to the throne. Cromwell was in great favor with the King who listened to him, publicly praised him, and trusted him much more than his many others councilors. The future promised to be cloudless and brilliant for Cromwell. He thought that it was the right time for him to demonstrate the King how useful his chief minister was. He was zealous to show the Duke of Norfolk and other representatives of the old English nobility that he had been no worse than they were. An ambitious and hardworking man, Cromwell was dreaming of concentrating more power in his hands and for the fractions that shared his passion for religious reforms and Protestant beliefs.

The religious reforms were the first thing on agenda. Cromwell had a fanatical dream – to utterly destroy the Roman Catholic Church in England. The Ten Articles, which were prepared by the reformers, included Protestant teachings on sacraments and justification and Catholic beliefs regarding saints and purgatory. Cromwell, Cranmer, and the Boleyns thought that if Catholic and Protestant beliefs had been muddled and some of teachings would have been revised, the golden mean would have been achieved, which would be a sort of compromise for the adherers of Protestantism and Catholicism. The Church of England was supposed to be neither purely Protestant nor devotedly Catholic, and it could easily be called the Henrician Church. Over time, Cromwell hoped to make the Church of England more Protestant than Catholic. The minister especially hated the so-called "idolatry" of the Catholicism and initiated the extensive campaign to attack and to destroy statues, roods, and images at the monasteries and the abbeys.

In 1535, the Parliament enacted _the Suppression of Religious Houses Act_ or _the Dissolution of the Lesser Monasteries Act_, which was worked out on the basis of the reports of impropriety and corruption which were received by Cromwell. The inspection of the religious houses was conducted in accordance with the so-called _Valor Ecclesiasticus_, which was the full-scale programme explaining the methods of assessment how much property was owned by the Church in England and in Wales. That act gave King Henry a legal right to dissolve corrupted religious houses that failed to maintain a proper religious life and the monasteries with annual incomes of less than two hundred pounds. It was also said that the King could exempt any religious house from the dissolution at his pleasure and discretion. Last year, Cromwell sent out many commissioners to religious houses of all kinds for their inspection and dispatched his commissioners to close the small houses, dispersing the inmates and turning their wealth to the Crown. Cromwell advocated the strategic necessity of the systematic dissolution of both large and small monasteries, and he was intending to propose it to the King. His idea was that the large monasteries must have shared the fate of the small ones and that everything must have been dissolved because of the feckless and ungodly lives of the monks. He planned to send more commissars to the monasteries, each of them loyal to him and to their purpose, as they needed to accelerate the suppression of religious houses in order to completely root out the Catholicism in England.

Cromwell knew that there were still many supporters of the Catholic Church among the nobility and the common people, but it didn't really matter for the reformists as long as the King of England wanted monasteries and nunneries to be dismantled, having their lands and wealth confiscated by the Crown. The wealthier the King would become from the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the more eagerly he would support the continuation of the Reformation in England. Cromwell knew Henry very well, understanding his strengths and weaknesses and being able to easily read his mind. The minister effortlessly realized what Henry wanted at a particular time and distinguished when the King hesitated to make any decision. He always embarked on the realization of every task Henry charged him with, without any questions and with great eagerness. Cromwell strived to provide the King with more wealth and to let him feel the taste of the absolute power and the effect of the power accrescence, at the same time subtly and quietly correcting the King's decisions and manipulating his sovereign in case of any necessity. King Henry needed to be told what should have been done, not what must have been done, but that "should" in reality masked "must", thus creating the visibility of the King's absolute power exercised independently from his advisors and councilors.

Cromwell liquidated Anne Boleyn because she evolved from being his close friend and his staunch ally to his mortal enemy and the constant threat for the chief minister's plans. They were great friends at the beginning, and it was Cromwell who supplied Anne with a couple of forbidden books written by the fervent advocates for the English Reformation. Anne brought these books to the King's attention, and Henry thanked Cromwell, making him the King's secretary and chief minister by 1534. However, later many differences arose between Anne and Cromwell. The Dissolution of the Monasteries was the point when the disagreement between Anne and Cromwell took its roots.

While Cromwell wanted to dissolve all the monasteries in the kingdom, ruining the church to the ground, Anne was an adherer of wise dissolution and supported moderate reforms. Anne was thinking that monasteries had provided orphans and widows, sick and invalids with shelter, food, and medical help; Cromwell ignored the role of the monasteries in the life of the poor population, affirming that all the proceeds from the Dissolution must belong to the King. She didn't forget about the interests of the common people who didn't have any positive feelings for her during her lifetime; he disregarded the opinion and the needs of the commoners who hated him and labeled him a heretic. Anne wanted religious reforms; Cromwell aimed at the destruction of the Church and the establishment of more Protestant-sounding than anything previously dared to imagine. Anne's was rather conservative in her religious believes; Cromwell was a radical Protestant. Anne even asked her chaplain, John Skip, to sermonize about Queen Esther and King Xerxes, whose evil adviser Haman wished to destroy the Jews and the kingdom. It was an analogy between Cromwell's plans and the Haman's motivations, which in sober fact meant that Anne had accused Cromwell of giving the King bad advice and, more strictly speaking, trying to destroy the heritage of the common people and England's legacy. Realizing that Anne and he were at the opposite sides in religious questions, Cromwell began to perceive Anne as a dangerous threat. He also disliked Anne's tantrums of anger she had once thrown at him, swearing that she would have him executed if he had proceeded to the reforms in accordance with his plan. Another time she menaced to interfere with the minister's standing the King. He knew that if she had a chance, her threats would potentially materialize. All those hostile and hot arguments were a fatal mistake from Anne which cost her Cromwell's support and friendship, making her position much more vulnerable.

Besides, they also had disagreement in their views on foreign policy as Anne wished an Anglo-French alliance and advanced France's interests while Cromwell preferred an Anglo-Imperial alliance. Cromwell renewed negotiations with the Imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys in February 1536. Chapuys informed him that the Emperor was ready to negotiate the alliance agreement, on condition that England would give him material support in his wars with the Ottomans and would support him against France in the Italian wars. The Emperor wished Lady Mary Tudor, the bastardized Princess, to be re-legitimated and at a minimum not to be obviated from the line of succession. The Emperor was ready even to support the continuation of Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn. Although the Emperor wanted Henry to return to the Catholic communion, it wasn't the most important issue for him at that moment as he needed an alliance with England against France and the Ottomans, which was especially important in the light of the new Franco-Ottoman alliance that was concluded at the early 1536 and that could have dramatically shifted the balance of power in Europe. Chapuys even gave a sweetener, possibly even from himself, promising that the Emperor would patch up England's relations with the Pope.

In the foreign policy, King Henry preferred to play the neutral role in the balance-of-power games of European monarchs. Henry considered existing options and had a practice of negotiating the opposite alliances – with the King of France against the Emperor, with the Emperor against the King of France, and with the German Protestant Princes against both of them. After the certain level of understanding was reached between Cromwell and Chapuys, the chief minister had a private audience with King Henry and told him about the perspective of forming Anglo-Imperial alliance and the terms of it. However, Cromwell didn't predict that the King would be so moody on that day. Henry demanded that the Emperor's offer must be put in writing, scolding that the Emperor must give him an apology for his treacherous practices of the last years. The audience was finished, and Cromwell didn't have time to inform Henry that the Emperor wasn't bored with the King's marriage to Anne Boleyn and was ready to support it in case of an alliance. Later Cromwell was happy that he refrained from declaring the Emperor's words about Anne Boleyn.

The situation turned troublesome for Cromwell because he advocated the policy that was so harshly rejected by his master. The minister's enemies were working against him, watching him as a pray, with Anne Boleyn taking the lead as she viewed the tilt toward pro-Imperial policy as an attack upon herself and the Boleyns. Raised in France, Anne liked everything French and personally sympathized to King François, although he didn't formally acknowledge her as the Queen of England. After Catherine's death Anne anticipated that King Francois would support her and that she would be able to negotiate Elizabeth's marriage to François' second surviving son – Prince Charles de Valois. Anne wasn't popular at the court, but she still was the Queen, and if she openly turned against Cromwell, then the Boleyn faction, Archbishop Cranmer, and other adherers of the Boleyns would also turn against the minister. Cromwell also had other enemies – the courtiers, who signed the Oath of Supremacy, but in fact were against the Reformation and Cromwell as its architect. Another trouble was that many English nobles who despised Cromwell for his low birth expressed their disapproval of an Anglo-Imperial alliance, fearing that such an alliance would preclude the Dissolution of the Monasteries while they expected significant enrichment from the participation in the Dissolution. At that moment, the situation looked rather dangerous for Cromwell: he wanted an Imperial alliance with England, but his major enemy – Anne Boleyn – was in favor of French alliance; he had enemies and few true allies. There was the possibility that he would lose his favor with the King and would possibly be replaced.

The alienation between Cromwell and the Boleyns was growing. The Boleyns and Anne Boleyn stood on the way for Cromwell's political preferences and even on the way for the Dissolution of religious houses which was so opposed by Anne. Either the minister or the Boleyns could win, and the losing party risked everything, even life. At last, the purposes and the motives of Cromwell and Anne, the former friends and allies, turned out to be so incompatible and so contradictory that Anne became Cromwell's sworn enemy. Cromwell made up his mind that he would take the first opportunity to make Anne fell out of the King's Grace and to destroy his fast foe.

When King Henry raised the matter of Anne's possible infidelities and charged Cromwell with the task to investigate into the case, the minister comprehended that it was a good chance to get rid of Anne Boleyn and the influential Boleyn faction at the court. Cromwell saw the depth of King Henry's involvement with the gentle and virtuous Lady Jane Seymour, whom the King would have gladly married if he hadn't already been married to a woman whom he had fallen out of love with. Taught by her family how to act to seduce the King, Jane was positioning herself as the decent and demure English rose, the opposite of the dark and frivolous French-looking Anne, thus holding out for her marriage to the King. Knowing that the King wished Jane Seymour to wear a crown, Cromwell helped Henry get rid of Anne.

The minister knew that the King would be immensely grateful to anyone who could have helped him to achieve his goal. Henry was used to getting his own way sooner or later, and the question was who would help him to set Anne aside. Having his own reasons to organize Anne's downfall and arrange ultimate death, Cromwell invented the method of having the King's way out of the despicable marriage: he fabricated the trumped-up charges of adultery, incest, and treason against Anne. Knowing the King's nature, Cromwell wasn't mistaken that Henry would persuade himself that Anne was guilty. The minister was also correct that he would gain the King's gratitude after Anne Boleyn's death; Henry appeared to like and respect Cromwell even more than he had done in the past. Cromwell was pleased with what he did and was convinced that he made up the right decision to overthrow Anne Boleyn from heaven to hell on Earth. His minister's job was to please the King by helping him achieve what he wanted, while the alternative was to suffer the consequences of failure.

However, Thomas Cromwell couldn't know that Anne Boleyn hadn't died in the flame. She survived the calamity arranged for her by Cromwell and by her other enemies. If Cromwell had known that his mortal enemy had been alive and that her heart was burning with dark hatred for him, he wouldn't have been so calm, seeing his future only in bright colors. Anne Boleyn wasn't a woman who could easily forgive her enemies who stood on her way. She was gentle and gracious to her supporters, paying with the opposite side of the coin to her enemies. In Cromwell's case, Anne was zealous to repay him tenfold for all her pain, thinking that the only possible punishment for the minister was his death on the scaffold, under the hateful whispers of the bloodthirsty crowd.

* * *

**_May 15, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Anne and her new "grandfather" never spoke about her past in England. Yet, Anne remarked that Monsieur Jean was watching her, often casting attentive glances at her. His observational skills were excellent, and Anne realized that very quickly.

During those days Anne cared for very few things. She was emotionally dead. Her physical and emotional estrangement from the outside world was very strong. The polite indifference and bland nonchalance were naturally embedded into her everyday behavior. Her beautiful blue eyes no longer sparkled in happiness and in merriment like it had been before the tragic events in England. Instead, her eyes were blank and impenetrable. Anne became much calmer and less temperamental.

When Anne and Monsieur Jean spent time together, enthusiastically talking about arts and politics, her aloofness was faded away as she was involved in the interesting, entertaining chat. Yet, her eyes didn't sparkle or, if they did, that sparkle was ambiguous or muted. She smiled very rarely, and if she did, it was usually an enigmatic smile. Anne's smile didn't denude her general melancholy and her emotional distress. It was as though she had learnt to wear a mask of iron, a mask of polite indifference and French courtesy.

"Anne, what were you doing today?" Monsieur Jean asked Anne during the dinner.

Anne stared at him. "I was reading _the Decameròn_ by _Giovanni Boccaccio_."

Jean laughed merrily. "Oh, it is an amazing book. I have always liked the novelty of Boccaccio's style as he is one of the first poets who became a true champion of portraying people's characters and a perfect observer of passions."

Anne nodded. "I have always liked the book too. This is not the first time I am reading it." A faint smile stirred her lips. "Well, you know how fond I am of Renaissance literature."

"Were you reading in Italian?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I thought that I had forgotten the language, but it appears that I didn't."

Jean sipped his wine. "I am sure that you didn't forget it."

Anne smiled at him. "Monsieur Jean, do you have any news from England?"

"Grandfather," Jean amended.

"Grandfather," she echoed. It was more natural for them now to address to each other in a less formal manner.

Jean cast an intensive glance at Anne. "Yes, I have received a letter from one of my old friends."

Although Jean didn't call the name, Anne realized that he meant her father – Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire.

"And how is your friend doing?"

Jean smiled broadly. "He is spending all his time in his family castle. He would love to receive an admission to the court of His Majesty _King Henry VIII_, but he is patiently waiting for his hour."

Anne looked calm, but for an instance her twisted lips slightly betrayed her rising anger and then her face again turned blank. She was afraid that her father would try to use her son Arthur for his own ambitions when an hour he was waiting would finally come. She didn't forget that Mary, George, and she herself had been only pawns in his hands, which helped him to secure new titles and welfare. Anne didn't want her son to be a part of that hypocrisy.

The blue eyes cold were like ice. "It was quite expected," she said abruptly. "Any more news?"

"My old friend from England noted that his grandson Arthur who resided at his eldest daughter's household is still there. He mentioned that the boy is healthy and that his daughter loves him dearly."

A sign of relief escaped her lips. Her dear little son was healthy! It was the most important for her. "It is very good when children are healthy," she commented with a smile.

Jean took another sip of wine. "Assuredly." He put the goblet at the table. "I also received a letter from the current French ambassador to England, Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion."

Anne gave to him another questioning look. "And what did His Excellence write? Any more interesting news?"

"Do you want to ask how King Henry is doing?" he inquired.

She drew a deep breath. "Yes, grandfather." Her voice trembled at her verbal confirmation.

From the corner of his eye, Jean caught her mood swing. He sighed. "His Majesty _King Henry VIII _married Lady Jane Seymour in ten days after the _death_ of his second wife Anne Boleyn. The wedding was very grand, and the celebrations took place during the whole week." He paused momentarily, his eyes never leaving Anne's face. "A few days afterwards, King Henry summoned a new Parliament. In front of all the people there the King made a long speech, stressing that notwithstanding the misfortunes attending his two former marriages, he had been induced, for their good, to venture on a third."

"And how did the Parliament react to that speech?" Amazement was struggling with anger in her heart, her eyes turning colder. She didn't expect Henry Tudor to be so bold and to marry so soon. She was laughing at herself in her mind because she had been a fool, admitting that he would wait and would mourn for her death. What else could she expect from the man who had killed her innocent brother and his innocent friends and had ordered to burn her at the stake?

Jean smirked. "One of the speakers, the notorious Richard Rich, compared King Henry for justice and prudence to Solomon, for strength and fortitude to Samson, and for beauty and comeliness to Absolom," he quoted the words of the French ambassador in England.

This time Anne laughed. She couldn't help herself – she laughed with a cynical, satirical laugh. It was really funny. In the meantime, it was sad because the obsequious Parliament was willing to go any length in encouraging the King's vices and in gratifying his most lawless passions.

As she stopped laughing, her lips were still curved in a smile. "What complacency and assentation!"

"And what else did you expect?"

"Nothing," she replied humbly. As the servant poured to her a new goblet of wine, she elegantly took the glass in her right hand and sipped wine. "And how are the children of King Henry viewing his marriage to Lady Jane Seymour?"

"The ambassador mentioned in his letter that Lady Jane was the mediatrix of the reconciliation between Henry and Lady Mary. Lady Mary returned to the court and was greeted warmly there by her father," he replied.

Anne knew that Jane would try to bring Lady Mary back to the court. She expected it. But what was going on with her dear sweet Elizabeth? "And what about the King's another daughter, Lady Elizabeth?" She wanted to say Princess Elizabeth, but stopped herself.

"The ambassador informed me that King Henry called his daughter Lady Elizabeth Henry Norris's bastard. He doesn't acknowledge her as daughter, despite the fact that the girl's last name is Tudor. King Henry also limited the expenses for the child. Lady Elizabeth's household didn't even have any funds to buy new clothes for the lady when she had outgrown the old clothes." Jean trailed off and gave a compassionate look to Anne. His brown eyes turned sorrowful. "Queen Jane was the one who sent some money to the child. Some family relatives also supported the child financially. King Henry himself refused to give more money and ordered the girl's governess not to ask again."

Anna clenched her jaw. Her heart started pouring blood harder and harder through her veins. As she was nervous, her breathing accelerated. Rage slashed through her veins. She hated Henry with all her heart at that moment. She hated him more than she had ever loved him. How could that cruel man treat his own daughter so harshly? Goddamn him! It was an act of atrocity what Henry had done to her and to their children! Surely, she knew well enough that Henry had been a man who had been very cruel in his anger and rampage. Meanwhile, he turned out to be even worse than Anne anticipated. Henry was an incorrigible steel-hearted man.

The silence followed, too deathlike and too ominous. The silence was unbearable.

Jean leapt to his feet. He leaned across the table closer to Anne. "Anne, don't allow hatred to poison your life. There is nothing else we can do now." Then he settled back into his chair.

Eventually, Anne forced herself to regain her composure. "Personally I can do nothing," she acknowledged bitterly. She lowered his head and looked down at her platter.

Jean nodded. "Anne, I suppose that Lady Mary and Queen Jane will take care of small Elizabeth. Some family relatives will also help the girl." They didn't discuss everything directly. Under "family relatives" Thomas Boleyn and Henry Percy were meant.

Anne raised her eyes to face her "grandfather". "I hope so," she answered.

"I hope that your old friend from England and my friend will do something," she added.

Jean smiled genuinely. "I also heard from my old friend in England that one of the premier Earls in England, Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, suddenly became very interested in the English Reformation. My friend reported to me that Henry Percy had being on good terms with Archbishop of Canterbury."

Anne also smiled. It was good news. Anne remembered that Henry Percy had said that he would try to help Anne and open the King's eyes that she had been innocent. Maybe Henry Percy decided to talk to Cranmer in order to ask him about Anne's last confession. She knew that Henry would take cautious approach to help her. Dear God, was it possible? Or was she just fantasizing it?

As Anne glared at Jean and her eyes registered his broad smile, she thought that her guess was more or less accurate. Her eyes sparkled in some hope. She grinned. "It is interesting," she said.

"Exactly." Jean sipped more wine. Then he sighed heavily. "The ambassador also wrote to me that Queen Jane is with child."

Anne held her breath. So the whore Jane Seymour was pregnant so quickly? She cursed silently. She hoped that it would be another daughter, a useless girl for Henry. She didn't wish Jane to have miscarriages and stillborn babies, but she didn't mind that the blonde-haired mousy would feel how Anne herself was feeling as Henry was disappointed when Elizabeth was born. "Well, it is normal when a wife expects a baby in matrimony," she said in a neutral voice, her gaze stony.

* * *

**_May 20, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Anne and Count Jean de Montreuil were sitting in the spacious four-arch loggia. They were having breakfast. The table was covered with several platters, including roasted meat on silver platters, eggs with aromatic herbs, a platter with cooked slices of delicious veal and venison, and a platter with sweet cup custards and fresh bread. A decanter of apple juice and two silver goblets stood at the table. A hot pot of coffee was also served especially for Monsieur Jean. The servant brought a platter of apples and grapes on the silver tray and put it on the table.

Jean sipped coffee. "Anne, do you know about the Italian War?"

"Yes, I do," she confirmed. Then she put a piece of venison in her mouth.

"His Majesty King Françoisis spending much time in Italy now."

Anne nearly choked with apple juice. "Because of the war?" There was a hint of alarm in her voice.

"Yes, it is the result of the ongoing war – the Italian War. Last year King François spent much time in the region of Provence, Piedmont and Lombardy," he said in a cautious voice. He was curious to what she thought at that moment.

Anne's blue eyes flew to Jean's face. She put a glass of apple juice at the table as it was trembling in her hands. For an instance there was a sort of alarm and anxiety in her gaze, which in a fraction of second went blank. Jean noticed it. "May King François come here soon?"

Jean was eating a large slice of roasted meat. "I don't exclude it because it is very likely that France will seek for an alliance with the Republic of Venice. France needs allies against _Charles V_, Holy Roman Emperor and the King of Spain."

"What will we do in this case?" she inquired.

"First of all, I am not sure that it will happen as the King of France is currently too busy in Piedmont. It was also rumored that he had a special meeting in Vatican," Jean declared. "Moreover, it is not necessary that you will see him."

Anne sighed heavily. She took a goblet and sipped juice. "It would be better if I don't meet with him."

She was alarmed. In her opinion, it was a real danger if King François, who was the son of _Charles d'Orléans, Count d'Angoulême_, Monsieur Jean's closest friend, was traveling in Italy. The thought that King François might somehow come to the city of Venice again sent a shiver along Anne's spine. If he ever comes to Venice, he would most likely visit the close friend of his deceased father and the former ambassador of France in Venice. Her heart was nearly jumping out of her thorax as she tried to imagine what would happen in that unfortunate case.

If King François ever came to Venice and recognized Anne as Anne Boleyn, it would be a disaster. Would François capture her and hold her as the English fugitive prisoner who was accused of high treason and who was sentenced to death? Would Anne be sent back to England as a peace gesture relative to _King Henry VIII_? What would happen with her relatives, including her father and her sister Mary? What would happen with Henry Percy? Anne was frightened that she could become anathema for her family, anathema that is worse than plague stepping on Earth and taking with it many people to underworld upon leaving. Her new path promised to be even more dangerous when she had initially expected.

Everybody knew that King Henry had been favoring an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire over an alliance with France since Anne Boleyn's downfall and further execution. Given that France invaded Italy in 1536, capturing Turin, but didn't take Milan so far, King François would most likely be happy not to admit an alliance between England and the Holy Roman Empire, which could have eventually become a potential threat for France. Therefore, it would be quite feasible that the French would choose to please England, Anne mused.

Jean laughed. "It might be useful for you if you meet with King François." He sipped coffee.

Anne's eyes grew wide in astonishment. "I… I don't think so." She stammered.

"Anne, I am very serious."

Anne relapsed into silence, and the old man's words hung heavy in that oppressive silence for a minute. Surely, Jean was jeering at her, she speculated. She didn't understand him. "What do you mean by saying that it could be useful?"

Making a huge sigh, Jean spoke in a flat baritone. "I suppose King François might become your ally."

"Why should he?" she inquired skeptically.

"It is so because King François has all the grounds to hate King Henry."

Jean's statement bewildered Anne. She had always known about the competition between King Henry and King François, but Jean's statement caught her off-guard. "To hate him?"

Jean gave a nod, sipping more coffee. "Yes." He put a slice of venison and a piece of bread on his platter.

Anne inhaled and exhaled sharply. "I thought that now King François would seek for an alliance between England and France in order not to admit an Anglo-Imperial alliance as it could drastically harm the power of France."

"Anne, I highly doubt that France will seek to secure an alliance with England. King François would be really happy to make everything possible to spoil the lives of Emperor Charles and King Henry."

"But why?" she questioned. She took an apple from the platter and bet off a small piece.

"Believe me, there are very serious reasons for it," he answered reluctantly an averted his gaze.

Anne decided not to pursue the topic because it was evident for her that Monsieur Jean wasn't ready to reveal it to her. She was observant enough to notice changes in his mood. When Anne was the Queen of England, she played many court games and weaved many political intrigues. While she had let a fondness for intrigue run away with her in the past, now everything was different. After her tragic experience in England and her escape, she was tired of dangerous court games when courtiers gossiped, poisoned each others' lives, and planned downfalls and ascensions. Yet, she still was interested in politics because she had personal interests in England – her children's interests. Even if she had left England forever, her life had already been tied to England. After Monsieur Jean's last words, Anne was very excited to learn what had happened between _King Henry VIII_ and _King François I._ Maybe she didn't know something. Maybe she just exaggerated. But she pierced it with a glance of intuition that something had happened between England and France, something shadowy and dark. She hoped that one day she would understand what Monsieur Jean meant.

* * *

**_May 25, 1537_****,** **_Vatican City within the city of Rome, the seat of the Papacy_**

The extravagant white royal carriage was moving further and further from _the Vatican City_ and _St. Peter's Basilicais_, which was a Late Renaissance church, which was principally re-designed by _Donato Bramante_ in the beginning of the 16th century. Inside the carriage there were _King François I of France, _his long-term _maîtresse en titre_ _Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes_, and_ François de Tournon_, a French diplomat and the Cardinal in great favor of the King of France.

They had a special meeting with the_ Pope Paul III_. It was the meeting connected with the annulment of the marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_, born an _Archduchess of Austria_ and _Infanta of Castile_ from _the House of Habsburg_. Eleanor was a sister of _Emperor_ _Charles V_. It was a very sad matrimony story. King François was forced to marry in July 1530 in order to secure the freedom of his two eldest sons - Dauphin François, Duke of Brittany, and Dauphin Henry. The disaster began in _the Battle of Pavia_ on 24 February 1525, where the King was actually captured by the forces of _Charles V_. François had been held as a captive in the miserable prison in Madrid before in May 1526 he was eventually allowed to return to France in exchange for his two sons Dauphin François and his second son Henry. His sons also had had to spend in Madrid several years before they returned home to France in 1530.

To release his two sons from the captivation in Madrid, King François had to make many confessions to _Emperor Charles V_. The King of France was also forced to marry _Eleanor of Austria_. As a result, King François hated Emperor Charles wholeheartedly. He also wasn't interested in the marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_, whom he usually publicly ignored due to his hatred for _Charles V_ and his personal dislike of Eleanor. King François had never consummated his marriage to Eleanor and preferred his lover Anne de Pisseleu over his own wife. Anne de Pisseleu had been the King's _maîtresse en titre_ since his return from the captivity in Madrid – for around eleven years.

As France gained military power and as of 1537 had a well-trained, large army, King François was no longer able to tolerate his tantalizing marriage and thus appealed to the Pope. François knew that his appeal for an annulment was well-grounded because his marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_ was forced. The Pope officially granted an annulment on the basis of the Catholic canon 1103, stating that a marriage may be declared invalid if force or grave fear was imposed on at least one of the two parties to obtain their consent. Absence of consummation was additional argument for an annulment. The latter could have been confirmed by every French courtier as the King of France had never been seen in the Queen's personal chambers. While there were true reasons to declare his marriage null and void, François was lucky that the Pope was on his side, not being entirely pleased with the behavior of _Charles V_ and the rising power of Holy Roman Empire in Europe.

"It is a glorious day today, isn't it?" Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly questioned with a smile.

King François smiled. "Yes, it is."

"Your Majesty, congratulations on the annulment of your second marriage," Cardinal François de Tournon said, briefly touching his red four-cornered cap.

François continued to smile, looking at his lover. "Thank you, Your Eminence."

"We are lucky that we annulled the marriage," the Cardinal added.

"We must thank His Holiness for his help," François returned. "Please ask Monsieur Antoine de Noailles to accompany Her Highness Infanta Eleanorback to Spain to her dear brother." He referred to Eleanor by her Spanish title from birth as though she had never been married to him.

Cardinal gave a nod. "I will."

François drew a hand through his chestnut hair. His sardonic and chilly smile betokened his satisfaction. "The Emperor will be infuriated and intimidated with our achievements."

Tournon also smiled. "The Emperor will be very angry."

"Of course, the Emperor will be outraged. France just threw this annulment right into the Emperor's face. This is a historical moment." Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess d'Étampes, laughed. "Your Majesty, now you are like King Henry of England."

The King's smile faded away, his jaw line tensed. "I wouldn't say that I am like our _brother _Henry. I never killed my own wife." His face clouded as his thoughts drifted to the atrocity King Henry did to Anne Boleyn.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty, if I expressed my opinion confusingly," Anne said apologetically.

"It is fine, Anne," François replied softly.

"I only wanted to say that you are also a man who cast off his unwanted wife. King Henryhad also annulled his marriage to Lady Anne Boleyn before she was executed," Anne noted.

As Duchess d'Étampes said that, François' thoughts drifted to another Anne – Anne Boleyn. As he heard about Anne's imprisonment, ridiculous charges against her, and her eventual death as she was burnt at the stake as a witch, François was furious that King Henry was able to kill the former Queen and the mother of his daughter so savagely. He was shocked by Anne's cold-blooded murder. It was a natural murder of an innocent woman. He just couldn't call it otherwise.

Cardinal de Tournon blinked. "If King Henry annulled his marriage to Lady Anne, then the charges of adultery and treason against Lady Anne are groundless," he speculated. "If there is no marriage, there is no adultery." He shook his head.

François furrowed. As soon as they touched topic about Anne Boleyn, he began to feel slightly distant, as if his thoughts were not entirely within the walls of the carriage. "I have known Lady Anne Boleyn since her early youth. She was too clever and too intelligent to betray the King of England with her own brother and the prominent courtiers," he said in a steady voice. "Rest to her soul," he said regrettably, laying a stress on each word.

Tournon crossed himself. "Rest to her soul."

"I think that King Henry just wanted to get rid of Lady Anne Boleyn," Anne assumed.

Tournon nodded. "If he just wanted to cast her aside, then he would simply divorce her or annul the marriage. There was something else beneath this tragic story."

"What can it be if the charges against her are false?" Anne questioned.

François averted his gaze and looked outside of the carriage window. "I am sure that Thomas Cromwell is connected with the plot of the downfall of the Boleyns. Cromwell supplies Henry with a constant list of threats to the kingdom, real or imaginary, serious or minor, which makes my cousin increasingly odd in many of his decisions and actions," he commented. He wanted to call these decisions and actions "paranoid" or "mad", but refrained from verbal slanderous expressions. Henry was the King of England, and François was too cultured and too well-mannered to step so low in his speeches toward any monarch.

"I agree," Tournon croaked.

"And so do I," Duchess d'Étampes joined.

François rubbed his chin as if in contemplation. Then he emitted a heavy sigh. "It is a great pity that Lady Anne Boleyn was burnt to death by her own husband. I would be happy if she could be alive now."

Anne glared suspiciously at him. She had always been jealous of François to other women. "Your Majesty, what do you mean?"

The King managed an ambiguous smile. "I implied exactly what I said, Madame."

Cardinal de Tournon looked slightly startled. He decided to change the topic. "Your Majesty, I think that you have spent too much time being involved in the ongoing Italian War with the Emperor. Perhaps, you need to take a short break?"

François shook his head in disagreement. "It is not time for rest now. Very soon I am having a very important meeting with the Doge of the Republic of Venice. So we are traveling there very soon."

"Is it so urgent?" Duchess d'Étampes asked.

François let out a cheerful laugh, asking himself how one woman could be so vexing, so cruel, and so attractive at once. He knew that she knew about the war and many of his plans in Italy, but she still asked him whether his departure was so urgent, knowing perfectly well that he had to leave. "Anne, you know that there is a serious war in Piedmont and Lombardy. It is my duty as the King of France to secure new solid political and military alliances on the Italian Peninsula," he explained.

"Is Your Majesty planning to establish an alliance with the Republic of Venice?" Tournon asked.

The King nodded. "An alliance with the Republic of Venice is our first priority in the next several months. We must have as many Italian allies against the Emperor as possible."

"It would be an advantageous alliance," the Cardinal agreed.

"I expect Your Eminence to help me with the negotiations," the King told Tournon.

Tournon smiled. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty, am I travelling with you?" Anne asked.

King François glared appraisingly at Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, the blond-haired, green-eyed French beauty. His eyes took in her small-framed figure under the light pink velvet gown with the very low crescent décolletage, the neckline of the gown trimmed with white French laces. She was so accustomed to baring her bosom and shoulders half-naked. Around her neck there was a gold cross that dangled. She wore an elegant small pink velvet hat that had a pair of long white plumes that dipped and bobbed around her shoulder on any breeze.

François smiled. He liked how his mistress' green, almost emerald eyes sparkled with vivacity or languished in melancholy. She was a young woman who was always ready for passionate love and sophisticated intrigue, non-stop dancing and intellectual discussions. She was an exceptional woman in every acceptation of the word and in all the charm of the idea. François thought that so many things in his mistress were incredible: from the emerald eyes languishing or flashing with fire to the small-boned feet in the velvet slippers. She had inborn French coquetry and was highly skillful master of seduction and temptation, drawing men's attention to herself. She walked as a temptress: light-footed, with a certain sway in her hips, with a pert tilt of her head and with a playful sparkle in her eyes. She knew how to smile and how to look to mesmerize everybody. Men lost their breathing back as Anne de Pisseleu's eyes sparkled, seeming to shine even brighter than normal. She attracted and unnerved men around herself; her voluptuous and pliant body, her beautiful face, and her enchanting smile made them incurably aroused and attached to her. She was a beautiful and intelligent creature. She was too beautiful, and nobody could have disputed that. Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly was so beautiful in her face, so passionate to the point of cruelty, so intelligent and so calculating in everything, so intrepid in all situations, and so insolent in happiness, carrying skepticism as far as absolute doubt and passion as far as coldness. François knew that she didn't possess the beautiful soul and heart of his first wife Queen Claude of France, but he was anyway attracted to her.

The daughter of a nobleman of Picardy, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly came to court before 1526 as maid of honor to François' mother _Louise de Savoie, Duchess d'Angoulême_. When King François returned from Spain in 1526, he took Anne as his occasional lover at the first stage and then as his official mistress, dismissing his fist long-term mistress _Françoise de Foix, Countess de Châteaubriant_. François didn't have to pursue her for a long time as the young girl seemed to be quite willing to slide under the King's bed sheets and didn't show much resistance to his advances. On the contrary, Anne demonstrated how much attraction she had to the King, using all her stunning looks, deep intelligence, and sharp wit.

Since becoming the King's official courtesan, Anne de Pisseleu faced no competition from former Queen Eleanor, holding herself as the second Queen of France. She was always with François, being the first and in the last several years the only woman in the King's bed, the first woman François danced with during the ball, and the second after his sister Marguerite woman with whom the King discussed various matters of politics. Anne de Pisseleu cultivated poets and championed various artists, sharing her royal lover's great interests in art. As the French court was split into factions – those who supported _Prince Charles, Duke d'Orléans_, as well as Anne and her circle, and those who supported Dauphin Henri and his lover Diane de Poitiers, including Anne de Montmorency, Anne was among those who championed Prince Charles and her own interests.

François eyed his mistress again, thinking about their past and the present. He was confused as he had always liked Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, but now he strangely didn't want her company in his trip to Venice. François was a little bored with Anne de Pisseleu. He was bored even with their wild passion that was simmering between them every time when they remained alone in the bedchamber, when they were dancing, or when they were simply close to one another like they were currently in the carriage. However, now the King wanted tenderness and softness, not mere passion, and it was an unusual discovery for him. She didn't change, but something changed in him. He didn't love her as much as he had loved her throughout many past years. In the recent times he began to question whether he had ever loved her genuinely. He might have been able to laugh at himself, if he hadn't been so appalled that he had questioned his own love for his beautiful and intelligent mistress. He was so sure that he had loved her even several months ago, and his current feelings were strange for him.

François smiled unassumingly at Anne. "No, you are not, Anne. You will come back to Turin and will wait for me there," he instructed.

The mistress darted a significant glance at the King. "But, Your Majesty…"

François smiled with a warmer smile and took her small-boned hand in his. "Anne, I will be very busy in Venice and don't want to be distracted. Please go back to Turin. It will be better."

"I will gladly obey to Your Majesty." Anne forced herself to maintain a dignified posture of her body and demure facial expression, though she felt rodents gnawing at the bottom of her heart.

François smiled at his paramour. "Thank you."

Anne de Pisseleu knew that if she asked why she had been ordered to leave for Turin, François would tell her not to meddle into his important political deals. Duchess d'Étampes knew that King François was attracted to her beauty and to her intelligence in the first place. It was true that Anne de Pisseleu often influenced some François' decisions, but these decisions were rather insignificant and minor, even if they were of political nature. He often listened to her and appreciated her opinion, but the final world was always said by him. He didn't like if she had openly meddled into his deals because he didn't wish to let her have a great influence on him in the military matters and in general in politics. Duchess d'Étampes accepted that, as she loved the King of France. In addition, she had lofty and keen intellect and foresaw and reckoned on all it, thus understanding that she couldn't have acted on her own, meddling into the King's deals and annoying the King too much, predicting that if she lost François she would lose not only a lover who could easily be supplanted, but also a high standing at the court. Yet, she had always used everything up to her own advantage, calculated every her word and ever her step, and tried to manipulate the King on the sidelines, though not very effectively. Meanwhile, she often questioned in her mind whether he had loved her as much and deeply as she had loved him.

The King's gaze shifted to Tournon. "Your Eminence, you will travel will me. Monsieur Jacques de la Brosse will come with us too. I shall need all of you a great deal in Venice. Monsieur Anne de Montmorency will stay in Piedmont with our army."

"As Your Majesty wants." Cardinal François de Tournon smiled sweetly as he liked to be in favor of the King. He was an experienced courtier who was skillful at keeping the King's secrets and preserving state interests.

Anne tilted her head. "Will I have a chance to spend more time with Your Majesty?" She meant that she wanted to spend another night with the King.

François smiled. "Of course, Anne."

"It is great!" the mistress exclaimed.

The heated gazes of the two lovers revealed that their minds were dazzled by the mysterious riches of sensations their amorous relationship gave to each of them. Not wishing to interfere into the intimate chat, Cardinal François de Tournon smiled and looked outside.

The King of France bent his head. "I daresay we can teach each other a thing or two about sensitive and complex feelings tonight," he whispered into her ear, his gaze sliding from her mouth to her bosom. At that moment he wanted to touch her and to kiss her skin of her neck, to feel her naked beneath him. Yet, it was a primitive male desire, and nothing more, he mused. He was again confused that he hadn't felt love for her.

Anne cocked her head to one side, as though to consider his suggestion. "I suppose we can. You won't be disappointed, _mon amour_," she murmured into his ear.

"Yes, of course," the King said. "I am usually not disappointed with you, Anne."

Anne was so flirtatious that her hand clasped the fabric of her gown and brushed it against the King's pants, her violet penetrating perfume hovering in the air. "And my King will never be disappointed with me." She laughed, and her cheeks bloomed as she remembered their majestic nights she spent in his arms.

"You are so far from being modest." François smiled and graciously bowed his head. "Never ever disappointed with you?" he teased her, feigning his voice to sound full of doubt and not knowing how true his question was. "Really, Madame?"

Anne forced a laugh, although she was slightly tensed. That laugh sounded hollow to her and normal to Cardinal de Tournon, but not to François who knew her too well. "Never ever, Your Majesty," she responded. Her heart was pounding as she had a mystery she was keeping from her royal lover.

* * *

**_June 1, 1537, Hever Castle, County of Kent, England_**

Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, was visiting Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire and the Earl of Ormond. Thomas Boleyn had been living in his unblessed solitude at Hever Castle since the arrest of his children and the execution of his son George Boleyn. The castle looked abandoned and unkempt in some rooms because the Boleyn family lost not only its power, but also much money after the downfall of Anne as the Queen of England.

"Be gone." Thomas Boleyn dismissed all the remaining servants with a careless flick of his hand. They didn't need for somebody to overhear their conversation. The servants obediently left.

Thomas Boleyn looked as though he had aged at least five years. He was quite well dressed and kept, but his eyes were dead and there were more deep wrinkles on his forehead and his cheekbones. Apparently, the events of the last year consumed much of his health and his spirit.

"Even I?" a voice said somewhere from behind.

Henry Percy and Thomas Boleyn swung around. _Elizabeth Howard Boleyn, the Countess of Wiltshire_, who was Thomas Boleyn's wife, was standing at the doorway. Wrapped in the warm cloak of yellow velvet and wool, which still slightly revealed the upper part bodice of the plan gray gown beneath it, she looked unhealthy and very lean. The loss of her weight was particularly evident on her face with sunken cheeks and vacant hazel eyes. There was something so distracted and so broken about her that it was more pitiful than tears. Henry understood how Lady Elizabeth must be feeling. Her only son George was executed, her daughter Mary was estranged, and her youngest daughter Anne was leading a shadowy life in the Republic of Venice. The family she had cherished was broken and their happiness was dead. She had once been one of the most beautiful and well-known ladies in England, and not she was known only as the mother of two traitors.

"Lady Wiltshire," Henry Percy greeted with a bow.

Lady Elizabeth curtsied to him. "Lord Northumberland." Her eyes were on her husband. "Should I also be gone?"

Thomas Boleyn's lips quivered. "Elizabeth, can you please make sure that nobody hears us?"

Lady Elizabeth silently nodded. Then she stared at Henry Percy. "Lord Northumberland, thank you for everything. The doors of this house are always open for you."

Henry bowed again. "Thank you, Lady Wiltshire." He realized then, that Anne's mother also knew their secret. It was logical that Thomas Boleyn told his wife the truth for her consolation. As the man and as the father, he was willing to pay the last tribute to the two children he had abandoned by saving his daughter.

Lady Elizabeth opened the heavy wooden door and disappeared.

Henry Percy smiled. "Lord Wiltshire, I think that I have become close enough with Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. Now he is more than sure that I am the most dedicated worshiper of the English Reformation."

Thomas Boleyn sighed heavily. "It should be difficult for you, your lordship. I know that you are still a devoted Catholic in your thoughts."

Henry nodded. "You are right, your lordship. But what else can we do to help Anne?"

"I agree with you," Thomas stated. "Maybe you will be able to persuade Archbishop Cranmer to open the King's eyes relative to Anne's last confession that should highlight her innocence."

"Another problem is that Archbishop Cranmer is not a courageous man. But he is a conscientious man whose life is connected with the hand of God." Henry Percy's booming pummeled the air. "I don't know how I will do it, but I will make Cranmer report the last confession to the King."

"Lord Northumberland, you are a brave gentleman," Thomas said confidently, with appreciation. "Do you still love my daughter?" His gaze didn't leave her eyes as he asked the question.

Henry sighed heavily. "I have always loved Anne, despite my marriage to Lady Mary Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury's daughter. You know that I don't live with my wife. Mary has been living with her father for several years."

"I have heard about your wife," the Earl of Wiltshire replied. Thomas struggled with himself to look into Henry's eyes, but simply bent his head. It was he and Henry Percy's father who hadn't allowed Anne and Henry to get married many years ago. Now, when his only surviving son and heir George was dead, Anne was presumably dead and lived in the Republic of Venice, and Mary refused to talk to him, Thomas felt very lonely. In this loneliness sometimes thoughts that he had been so guilty had struck his mind.

Henry Percy felt the mood of Thomas Boleyn. He concluded that it would be better to change the subject. "Lord Wiltshire, do you have any news from Italy?"

At that time Thomas turned to face Henry. "I received a letter a week ago. Everything is fine."

Alleviation emblazoned on Henry's handsome face. "I am happy to hear it." He rubbed roughly his forehead, as though to clear the jumble of thoughts in his mind. "We must be very cautious."

"Yes, we must," Thomas decreed. "Maybe I should talk to the Duke of Norfolk. Maybe he will help me to go back to the court."

Henry Percy wasn't sure that it was a great idea at that time. He had a gut feeling that rush would demolish their plans. "Lord Wiltshire, I am asking you to wait until I will talk to Cranmer straightforwardly. It is possible that if Cranmer talks to King Henry, the King will summon you to the court by himself. We must wait a little more. We must be patient."

Boleyn smiled at a younger man. "You are right, Lord Northumberland."

They had no right to take additional risk. They had no right for mistake. They both knew that.

* * *

**_June 5, 1537, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Anne sat on the edge of the cushions in Count Jean de Montreuil's private gondola that was sailing down the canal. She was enjoying the city views. The gondola shot out across the Grand Canal and soon they landed at the quayside, the steps that lead up from the water into _the Piazzetta_. Anne felt a thrill as she beheld the pink arcaded bulk of _the Palazzo Ducale_ or_ the Palace of the Doges_, which was her favorite building in the whole city. Anne's eyes fixed on the golden facade of _the Duomo San Marco_, and she smiled as she witnessed how many pigeons fluttered over their people's heads and strutted beside their feet.

Anne stepped outside the gondola and kept going ahead, in the direction of _the Piazza San Marco_, the principal public square in Venice, which was dominated at its eastern end by the great _the Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco_, commonly known as _Saint Mark's Basilica_. As she reached _the Piazza San Marco, _she adroitly steered through the crowd gaping at _the Palazzo Ducale_ and at the facade of _Saint Mark's Basilica_. She made her way right inside the Cathedral and went inside.

Anne kept going down the nave and finally took place on one of the wooden pews closer to the altar. _Saint Mark's Basilica_ was a Roman Catholic cathedral, while Anne was more inclined to the protestant religious ideas. However, Anne had no other choice if she wanted to pray because the people of Venice generally remained Roman Catholics, although it was well-known that the state of Venice was notable for its quite freedom from religious fanaticism, which enacted not a single execution for religious heresy.

As Anne settled on the pew, she started praying. She wanted to pray. She often came to this cathedral in order to talk to God and to ask for its mercy and care of her estranged children.

"Lord, please help my children Elizabeth and Arthur. Save and protect them," Anne prayed silently.

As Anne finished her prayer, she crossed herself and rose to her feet. She approached the altar and stared at an image of a lamb often with a halo and a banner and cross used as a symbol of Christ. After Anne had pronounced another short prayer, she turned around, apparently intending to go along the nave to the exit.

Suddenly, Anne saw the unknown man with the knife in his arm. He was poorly dressed, most likely being a peasant. The man with a knife was aiming to throw it at another man, who was standing on the right side of the altar.

That another man – the target man – was wearing the clothing of extraordinary richness, including the white taffeta shirt with the standing band collar, the luxurious black puffy Venetian pants, the King's most beloved model of pants, and the magnificent black and white striped satin doublet, lavishly embroidered in gold and trimmed with jewelry. Anne noted that his Venetian pants were ornamented with gold braid and some exquisite embroidery. His attire was finished with the black velvet flat cap trimmed with gold braid around the edge and adorned with golden diamond brooch, the so-called _affiquet_. Anne decided that the man had to be a rich Venetian nobleman. She didn't see his face as he was standing with his back to her. The man was praying, not seeing his potential murderer in several feet behind him.

Anne's eyes grew wide in shock. She stepped forward to the praying rich man. She couldn't allow it to happen. She was acting intuitively. She had to prevent the murder and to let the man know about it.

Anne came closer to him and spoke in flat, clear Italian, but with a slight French accent. "Monsieur, please be careful. Behind you there is the man with a knife in his right arm." Her loud words vibrated through the vacuum of the Cathedral like warbling birdsong.

The man swung around to face the woman who warned him about the danger. He blinked, his face evolved into confusion. "But you are Anne Boleyn," he said slowly in a low voice, as though he had forced the words to come out.

Anne saw the gentleman whom she called out. She recognized him in an instance. She saw his handsome face with almond-shaped amber eyes, high cheekbones, and quite a long nose. He was one of the tallest men Anne had ever met, standing a head taller than an average man. His head was full of thick straight chestnut hair falling smoothly over each ear. He was the infamous _King_ _François I of France_. After all, she had spent so many years at his court in France, the golden years of her youth. She couldn't make a mistake and took him for somebody else.

Anne was in cold sweat, horror seized her body, and her heart skipped several beats. "No!" she murmured in vague, unavailing attempts to refute reality.

Anne wanted to say something else, but failed. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain somewhere in the area of her right shoulder. Everything happened very quickly and very unexpectedly – the man threw the knife in the direction of François, but missed an aim. As a result, the knife reached Anne. At first, Anne was in profound numbness as bloodcurdling, unbearable pain stole upon her. She screamed and fainted right in front of the King of France.

François' eyes widened as he stared at the young lady on the floor. The picture around him was breathtaking. The unconscious lady looked like a rich Venetian noblewoman who was dressed in the fashionable light green silk gown with the low square-cut neckline and with the skirt widely opened in front, with narrow sleeves to the elbow and wider thereafter up to the wrist. The gown was heavily trimmed with dark green Venetian laces. The lady's eyes were closed, her skin deathly pale. Some of her long dark tresses were now loosen and were graciously falling over her neck and her shoulders, the chain with the jewel in the center still fastened in the large knot at the back of her head. The splendidly embroidered with jewelry, black velvet skull-cap, which was previously set amongst her curls, was lying on the floor near her head.

As François leaned down to the woman, his eyes registered an increasing spot of blood on her right shoulder. That spot of blood was distinguished pretty well on the background of her light green gown. People around them began to worry. Grasps and groans filled the Cathedral.

"Oh my God! What happened?" a woman groaned.

"What did that man do to the _signora_?" another woman babbled.

"Poor _signora_," a young girl moaned.

"This _signora _is so brave!" another woman noted.

"Shhh," François whispered at the scared murmuring women near them, a pointed finger tapping against his pursed lips, surprising everyone. The women trailed off in unison.

The King of France raised his head and glared across the nave, looking for his companions. "Cardinal de Tournon! Guards! Guards!" he called out. "Your Eminence! Guards!" he repeated. The Cardinal and several guards rushed to him from the entrance.

As Tournon and others marched to him, the King of France stood in such a way as not to allow many people to see Anne and, most importantly, her face. Then he lowered his head, his gaze fixing on the face of the lady who just saved his life and was injured because of him. François thought that his mind was playing jokes with him. He felt that his heart was pounding so hard that it was painful to breathe. As he strained his eyesight, François finally realized that he didn't have any hallucinations and that his female savior indeed had a strong resemblance to Anne Boleyn, as though she was her twin.

* * *

**_June 10, 1537, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Five days passed since the fateful day when King Françoishad been saved from a knife of an assassin. Everybody was shocked with such an audacious attempt to kill the King of France right in the Cathedral when he was praying near the altar. An attempted murder of a foreign monarch in the Church was something extraordinary and never-before-seen.

Many gossips were floating in Venice. People wondered who that brave woman had been, the woman who had saved the King of France and had been wounded herself. The courtiers and the ministers, who accompanied François to the Republic of Venice, gossiped and guessed who the King's _savior _was. The tale of a miraculous salvation spread quicker than any other rumors in Venice. The female _savior_ was proclaimed to be the _le Sauveur du Roi-Chevalier_ or _the Savior of the Knight-King_. That nickname was given to Anne because King François himself was known as _le Roi-Chevalier _or _the Knight-King_ because of his personal involvement in many battles.

In five days after François' salvation, Anne became the unknown, incredibly shining star of Venice. It was often said that she had saved King François because she had heard the whispers of God and thus had been destined to save him. Not only the people of Venice, but also French courtiers and ministers viewed the King's female _savior_ as nearly a heroine of France, as well as a martyr who was ready to sacrifice her own life in the honor of a foreign monarch. As courtiers and ministers weren't sure that the woman was the subject of France, they had even deeper adoration of that female _savior_. Salvation of her sovereign was one thing, but protection of the foreign King's life was perceived as a more courageous and more heroic deed.

Only several people knew that it was Anne de Ponthieu who had saved the King of France in the Church, but those people also knew or suspected who Anne de Ponthieu was in reality. When Anne fainted in front of King François near the altar, he called for his close friend and his minister Cardinal François de Tournon. His guards quickly arrived at the spot of the crime. Anne's face was seen only by the French King and by Cardinal de Tournon who gasped as he was also stunned with the resemblance of the unconscious woman to Anne Boleyn. Tournon met the grown up Anne in _Calais_ and remembered her quite well. François ordered him to keep silent until his personal instructions.

When Anne was wounded in the Church, they started thinking what to do with her. It was only a matter of luck that one of parishioners, an old Venetian woman, recognized that Anne was the granddaughter of Count Jean de Montreuil, which wasn't difficult because Anne often visited _the Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco_. That old woman was paid for silence because François wanted to keep Anne's identity in secret even in Italy.

The hired assassin was caught and arrested by the Dodge of Venice's people. He was immediately interrogated. For several days, the man refused to talk. As a result, he was tortured and finally confessed that he had wanted to kill King François for the sake of _Holy Roman_ _Emperor Charles V_. However, the man didn't confirm that he had been hired by the Emperor. He stated that he had simply wished to murder King François because he had invaded Italy that didn't belong to France.

Anne was delivered by François and his people to _the Palazzo Montreuil_. Monsieur Jean was speechless when he saw how the King of France entered the grand hall, carrying pale, unconscious Anne, fresh spots of red blood on the right sleeve of her gown and on her bosom. Affected by deep shock, the old man was able only to instruct the servants to urgently fetch the physician because it was evident that Anne needed qualified medical help. As Anne was placed by the servants in her room, King François told Monsieur Jean about what had happened in the Cathedral. Monsieur Jean was thunderstruck with the news.

The doctor said that the wound on Anne's right shoulder was quite serious. She lost rather much blood. However, the physician expected Anne to recover, provided that there would be no high fever and infection in the wound. Although it was impossible to avoid fever from the infected wound, it was broken in five days. No more bleeding from the wound was observed, and pain and swelling decreased considerably. Anne was gradually gaining her strength, and everybody was anticipating her to survive.

* * *

**_June 11, 1537, Palazzo Barbarigo, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Jacques de la Brosse, a cupbearer to the King and a diplomat, and Cardinal François de Tournon had a dinner together with King François. They were staying at _the_ _Palazzo Barbarigo_, the residence of the current French ambassador to the Republic of Venice. The table before them was covered with a virtual orgy of food, including roasted meat on silver platters, tureens spilling with stew, capons and roasted partridge, fish sliced with eggs, cooked vegetables, as well as platters with hare, veal, and venison. Cakes made of pine nuts and sweet cup custards were also served at the table. A decanter of French Bordeaux wine and three goblets stood at the table.

Cardinal François de Tournon was eating fish with sliced eggs. "What will we do with the Emperor's attempts on your life, Your Majesty?" Tournon asked, sipping his wine.

Although the hired assassin didn't admit that he was sent by the Emperor, nobody believed him. _Charles V_ had too many reasons to take the life of the King of France. Charles hated François with all his heart, especially after an annulment of François' marriage to Eleanor of Austria, the Emperor's elder sister.

François tipped his head back and laughed. He took a long swallow of wine and slapped the goblet back onto the table. "The assassin will be executed. However, we can do nothing because we cannot prove that Charles was involved." He took a large slice of roasted meat on his platter and started eating it.

Looking at all the platters with food, Jacques de la Brosse felt how his flourishing appetite awoke. He took two slices of roasted meat and one slice of veal on his platter. "The nasty rumors will harm the reputation of the mighty Holy Roman Emperor," he asserted.

"Yes, they will." François smiled with a devilishly handsome smile as he was pleased at the thought that the Emperor's reputation would be damaged.

"We must be very careful now," Tournon said confidently. "I will double the number of your guards, Your Majesty."

François shifted in his seat and took another sip from the half full jeweled goblet. "Thank you, Your Eminence." He looked at Brosse and Tournon with a scrupulous gaze. "I want you to make sure that nobody will learn the identity of the woman who saved me in the Church. Nobody should know who saved me in the Cathedral. The name of Anne de Ponthieu and the name of _another woman_ Anne de Ponthieu looks like must never be mentioned," King François ordered. He had to make sure that his ministers understood his orders. "I demand from you the strict confidentiality and the preservation of secrecy."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Jacques de la Brosse and Cardinal de Tournon answered in unison.

François stared at them, his hazel eyes authoritative. "Please make sure that nobody from our courtiers and diplomats here in Venice saw the face of my _savior_. They mustn't know her name either."

Cardinal de Tournon was interested what would happen next. His gaze locked with the King's gaze. "Your Majesty, if I may ask, are you considering to contact the English Ambassador in Venice?"

François shot Tournon an angry glare. "Your Eminence, never even think about it. Henry Tudor is my enemy. I would never do something to please him."

Jacques de la Brosse smiled and bowed to the King. "Your Majesty, everything will be as you wish." Then he took a goblet from the table and took a large gulp.

Cardinal de Tournon gave a nod. "I am sorry, Your Majesty, if I displeased you. I agree with your decision and will always support you." His gaze fixed at delicious venison, and he took a slice to his platter.

The King of France raised an emphatic finger to Heavens. "God knows what he does. And I am following him." It was a hint that it was Good's will to save Anne Boleyn from death and God's will that she saved François in the Cathedral.

When the meal was complete and the three men sat back in their chairs, Tournon held his hands above his head and firmly clapped them. The musician entered the room. Many of the candles were almost extinguished, and the room filled with the heavy aroma of smoke.

"Your Eminence, I guess you arranged some entertainment," François said with a smile.

"I hoped to please Your Majesty by arranging a small performance for you," Tournon replied.

François leaned forward and slapped the Cardinal across the back in a friendly manner. "Splendid!"

The musician began to play, changing the rhythms from melodic strains to more exotic themes. François, Tournon, and Brosse spent the rest of the evening talking about art and music. No other serious topics were touched.

* * *

**_I would like to take this opportunity and thank the readers who subscribed and favourited this story in that short period of time since I started writing._**

**_I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help._**

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter._

_As I promised, we have Anne in the city of Venice, while King François I is also going to Italy because at that time the Valois-Habsburg Italian wars were continuing. Don't worry because later we will have a lot of events happening in France too. The description of Jane's marriage and the part about the gifts for Jane are also historically correct. Historical details about Venice are correct._

_The assassination attempt on the life of King François is a fictional event. Who is behind it you can probably guess - Emperor Charles V._

_François and Anne meet each other under rather unusual circumstances. But Anne is an unusual lady. And when did everything was simple and predictable for Anne Boleyn?_

_Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, and Cardinal François de Tournon are real historical heroes. __The details about the relationships between King François and Anne de Pisseleu are historically correct, but will be adapted to the plot of this story._

_I will be playing with some historical events. In this chapter the major change in the history is the annulment of King François I's marriage to Eleanor of Austria. In reality, François didn't discard his wife, although it is true that he had never liked her and preferred his mistress Anne de Pisseleu over his wife, Queen Eleanor. In some historical books it is even written that François and Eleanor never consummated their marriage. Most likely, François simply shared the bed with his unwanted wife very rarely. Well, I would suppose that there was no consummation because it eases the chances to annul the marriage, which is the case in this story._

_I hope you enjoyed the descriptions of places and clothes. I like historical facts and various picturesque details, so that be prepared to have them in abundance in this story. The portraying of Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly and François himself in terms of their appearance is more or less historically correct and in the case of François also consistent with the Tudors show._

_For clarification - the form of addressing to cardinals is "Your Eminence"._

_The next chapter is very difficult to write. I need to figure out many things there. I hope it won't take much time for me._

_Please let me know what you think about this chapter, I am very interested in your feedback._

**_Let me know what you like and dislike in this chapter and in the story in general. Reviews are always appreciated, including criticism, provided that it is well grounded. Thank you in advance._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Marriage as a bargain**

**_June 12, 1537, Palazzo Barbarigo, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

_King François I of France_ lost himself in musings since the accident in the Church. He was stunned that Anne Boleyn was alive. He knew that it was she because he didn't believe in such rare coincidences and because Anne Boleyn didn't have a twin sister. The woman who saved him couldn't be Anne de Ponthieu – she could be only Anne Boleyn. He didn't need any confirmation of her identity. And he had a strange, natural feeling of happiness that Anne was alive.

But if she was Anne Boleyn, then how did she avoid her death in the fire? Did she escape from the Tower of London? And in that case who was burnt at the stake instead of her? How was her death faked? But, most importantly, who helped Anne? François knew that Count Jean de Montreuil was an old friend of Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire. Most likely, Thomas Boleyn arranged the salvation of Anne's life, and they possibly were helped by somebody else. Who else was involved in the plot? But these questions weren't the most important for the King of France.

François was thinking what he should do now when he learnt the truth. He would never consider sending Anne Boleyn back to England. There was no question for him that he would force the innocent woman into the claws of the English tyrant who would surely execute her. Most importantly, François didn't want Anne to be executed, considering her death to be an excessive punishment for the sins she committed in her life, even though she had indirectly ruined Queen Catherine's marriage and Mary Tudor's happy life. He blamed King Henry for Catherine's removal and Mary's persecutions much more than he had ever blamed Anne. François could also forbear from interfering in the situation, and he had an impulse to follow that strategy; in that case Anne Boleyn would remain Anne de Ponthieu, living in the Republic of Venice, where nobody knew the "deceased" Queen Anne of England. Alternatively, he could take her with him in France, he mused. But how could she be introduced if she suddenly appeared at the King of France's side at the French court? Many French courtiers remembered the gown-up Anne Boleyn's on _Calais_, and they would surely see Anne's striking resemblance to "herself". No, these two variants were flawed. Instead, François had other thoughts – they could help each other, becoming political allies.

King François hated King Henry and didn't wish to establish a public alliance with England, especially when his spies had recently uncovered the secret kept by _Emperor_ _Charles V _and _King Henry_ _VIII_ in the strict confidence for so many years. It appeared that King Henry had financially supported the military campaign of the Emperor in the Italian War of 1521–1526, giving him much gold to hire German, Swiss, and Italian mercenaries in the war against France. François despised Henry for the help to the Emperor_,_ thinking that it was the perfectly hypocritical act, especially given that _Thomas Wolsey, Lord Chancellor, Archbishop of York, and Archbishop of Canterbury, _had always positioned himself as the most loyal friend of France and had been known to have favored an Anglo-French alliance over an Anglo-Imperial alliance.

There also was an important personal circumstance that fueled François' hatred for _Emperor_ _Charles V_ and _King Henry VIII_. François had always blamed these two monarchs for the death of his eldest son – Dauphin François. The young man had never fully recovered his health after three years spent in the damp, dank cells of the prison in Madrid. As a result, Dauphin François died at the age of eighteen years in 1536 from consumption. The Emperor's poor treatment of François' sons in captivity and Henry's help to the Emperor contributed, directly and indirectly respectively, to the death of François' son, and he couldn't forget about that.

François suspected that Anne's feelings for King Henry were tossing somewhere between deep love and burning hatred. He was convinced that Anne must have despised King Henry who had imprisoned her under false charges, murdered her brother, bastardized their daughter Elizabeth, rejected his own infant son, and eventually ordered to burn her at the stake. François thought that Anne had been truly hurt by Henry's ultimate betrayal. He was convinced that Anne considered Henry Tudor to be her enemy, even if she still loved him deeply in her heart. She loathed Henry and carved for revenge, and it just couldn't be otherwise for the King of France. At the same time, Henry also was François' enemy, and he wanted to have his revenge on the English King. As Anne and François had a common enemy, they could become allies to have their revenge.

Another thought also struck his mind. If Lady Anne's name was cleared, she could have an influence on the political life in England, given that she had two healthy children with King Henry. François knew that Anne's children with Henry – Arthur and Elizabeth – may one day take the throne of England in the best case scenario. And even if it didn't happen, the children somehow connected England and France, possibly making a new step in the relations of the two countries. Having loyal England would be very beneficial for France. Thus, an alliance with Anne was important for François. He couldn't miss that opportunity.

François remembered that Anne had played an important role in the English Reformation. At the same time, she wasn't a radical Protestant. François implemented the policy of religious tolerance in France because of his sister Marguerite's interests in new religious movements and because of his desire to weaken the Holy Roman Empire that fiercely opposed the Protestant Reformation in many German states. He also knew that Anne was clever enough not to talk about and not to push him to the Reformation in France, which was completely impossible and unacceptable for the kingdom. François had a shrewd and calculating interest in Anne's association with the Reformation because Anne's associate with France and with him would have given him a brilliant opportunity to establish real working alliances with German Protestant States. Thus, an alliance with Anne was immensely important for François. He couldn't miss that opportunity.

If they were allied, how would that alliance be shaped and preserved? They could have a silent agreement that François would help Anne to prove her innocence. In that case Thomas Cromwell would fall out of his grace and would be executed with the highest probability. The foreign policy of England would be more favorable for France without Cromwell. But if they had only an agreement, how would he materialize the benefits stemming from an influence on England through Anne's children? It could be achieved only through a marriage.

Was François indeed thinking of a marriage to Anne Boleyn? What a crazy idea it was! He was the King of France and she was the former English Queen who was technically dead and who was considered to be a high traitor in England. No, it was impossible, he said to himself. But then he suddenly returned to the same idea. What if the marriage was kept secret for some time, till they clear her name? Truth be told, it was quite possible at the stage when there were several assassination attempts on the King of France's life. They could keep their marriage in secret under the ground of their life preservation. As soon as he name was cleared, they would disclose Anne's identity. François chuckled when he imagined Henry Tudor's face as he would learn that Anne Boleyn was alive and all the more the Queen of France. That would be the greatest and the most cold-blooded revenge on Henry.

Anne rescued François' life and was viewed as_ le Sauveur du Roi-Chevalier_ or _the Savior of the Knight-King_. The fact that the assassination attempt had been committed in the name of the Holy Roman Emperor enraged French courtiers. It would undoubtedly enrage the common people of France once the terrible news travel to France from Venice. The marriage to the King's _savior_ was an important political step that would mobilize his people against the cunning Emperor.

François didn't know how many more wars against the Holy Roman Emperor he would have to lead. He didn't exclude that a decisive battle or some battles would take place on the territory of France, somewhere in Provence. And even if the battle was not in France, he anyway needed to mobilize the nation and his army against the aggressor. Although not being the greatest military man, François knew that fighting for the King might not be enough to win because people needed inspiration and passion. In the meantime, fighting for the King of France and the Queen of France, his wife and his _savior_, who risked her life and was about to sacrifice her own life, showed an example of both courage and devotion to the common people and to French soldiers. It was a source of both passion and inspiration, which were necessary to gather stronger and larger forces against the Emperor.

Anne and François could benefit from their marriage. It was true. However, marriage to Anne was also quite hazardous – François had much to lose. But wasn't the King of France a gambler and a risk taker? As he continued the incessant Italian Wars that his predecessors had started, he experienced both victories and defeats. He defeated the Swiss at _Marignano_ in 1515 and captured Milan, but later lost it and was captured by the Emperor. Recently he invaded Italy again and captured Turin and the Duchy of Savoy. He was gambling in the battlefield and on a diplomatic arena, and he was not always successful. But now he had a real chance to defeat the Emperor because France gained more military and more political power. In the majority of cases, the matured French King made only well-thought, rational decisions. However, at times he was still prone to making irrational and rushed decisions. Was François irrational when he was thinking of marrying Anne Boleyn? Since his captivity by the Emperor, François turned to be more patient and more calculating, more cautious and more down-to-earth. He was much more practical, but he still was a risk taker. And the benefits associated with the marriage to Anne were too tempting. And wasn't it a good omen that they met in Venice and that she saved his life? François and Anne were _the Knight-King and his savior_, and they would indubitably find a common ground in their marriage.

King François had always liked Anne Boleyn, and they had always got on well with each other. François met Anne Boleyn many years ago when she was serving as a lady-in-waiting in the household of _Queen Mary Tudor of France_ and when she later was a maid of honor to his first wife, _Queen Claude of France_. He had remembered Anne since that time, although she was a very young girl at that time. Despite her early youth, there was something in that girl that made men to look at her and to memorize her, and François wasn't an exception in that trend.

François remembered each and every details of their meeting in _Calais_ five years ago, in October 1532. As it was planned, Henry and Anne sailed for _Calais_ where they were greeted by the thunder of a royal salute and by the great attentions of the mayor and lord deputy of the city. François still remembered that Anne lived like a Queen escorted by Henry everywhere and surrounded by the magnificent splendor and the perfect luxury. François also remembered Anne's triumphal entry in the middle of the great banquet Henry had given in the French King's honor. When Anne appeared in the image of the Greek Goddess and led a masque of six ladies. All of the ladies were gorgeously dressed in the gold-laced overdresses of white taffeta, with sashes of crimson satin ornamented with a wavy pattern in cloth of silver, which made François think how perfect their clothing looked amid the banqueting hall that was magnificently decorated with hangings of cloth of gold and silver, which were ornamented with gold wreaths and were encrusted with precious stones and pearls. Then each woman chose a Frenchman to dance with: Anne's sister Mary led out Queen Marguerite's husband, King Henry of Navarre, and the other ladies did the same with their partners. François was also invited by one of these women for the dance, and Henry delightfully approved that. At first, François didn't know that Anne was among the dancers and that she claimed him for the dance, and he admired his female partner's dancing skills and passion that simmered in each movement of hers. After a long dance, Henry removed Anne's masks, and François' heart hammered harder and harder at the realization that the woman he greatly liked was Anne Boleyn. After a series of dancing, François and Anne had a private conversation when he orally supported her marriage and warned her about the difficulties associated with the royal position she would have to face. In the end, the King of France was utterly charmed by Anne who was so captivating and so passionate that he couldn't help but enjoy her melodic laugh, her splendid grace, and her beautiful dark blue eyes that had hooked his desire to the point. At that moment François even felt some jealousy of Anne to King Henry. François felt sad when Henry and Anne finally accompanied him to the border-crossing into France.

Anne Boleyn wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, and her beauty was unconventional and enigmatic, not a classical beauty of a Roman or a Greek Goddess. Anne attracted François because she was an epitome of grace, charm, elegance, wit, and, of course, intelligence. Anne was impeccably well educated and well learned in arts. She also had a practicable, cunning mind in politics. François thought that Anne could prove herself out to useful as the Queen Consort of France. His mother _Louise de Savoie_ and his wife Claude of France were strong and intelligent women, having brilliant qualities to occupy the position of the Queen. His sister Marguerite, the Queen of Navarre, was another example of the highly talented woman who was able to rule and take important political decisions. Among all the women whom he had ever met, Anne was the fourth woman who was capable of being the great Queen Consort of France.

The more François was thinking, the more realistic the opportunity to marry Anne seemed to him. He even had a more or less well-thought plan how to clear Anne's name. It was the plan that included the downfall of Thomas Cromwell. They could have become great allies. _The marriage between the Knight-King and his savior seemed to be_ _a matter of politics and a matter of common personal interest_. Soon King François was assured that he should marry Anne Boleyn or Anne de Ponthieu. Once Anne's name is cleared, Anne would become the great Queen of France and he would greatly benefit from this marriage.

* * *

**_June 13, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

While Anne was unconscious, King François and Count Jean de Montreuil didn't speak about Anne's true identity. Monsieur Jean was expecting that conversation with dread. He knew that he wouldn't lie to his King. Maybe it would be even for the better because King François and Anne would probably become allies against King Henry, Monsieur Jean thought. Jean knew that François had more than enough reasons to seek revenge on King Henry. In the end, the acceptable moment for that conversation came. François and Jean were alone in the study room.

François stared at Jean with an intensive gaze. "Monsieur de Montreuil, please tell me the truth," he said firmly. "Anne de Ponthieu is the same lady as Anne Boleyn." His last words sounded like an assertion rather than a question.

Monsieur Jean kept silent. He didn't know what to say. Then he finally spoke. "Your Majesty, I… I…" He stammered and coerced into silence.

"Monsieur Jean, you were a very good friend of my father. Thus, you are also my friend."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jean replied with a bow.

François raised his brows in expectation. "I don't believe in coincidences. She must be Anne Boleyn or her twin. But Anne Boleyn didn't have a twin. I remember Anne Boleyn very well. I also remember that you used to be a friend of Thomas Boleyn."

Monsieur Jean bent his head. "You are right, Your Majesty."

"Thank you for the confirmation, Monsieur Jean."

"Your Majesty, if I may ask, what are you going to do now? Will you send her back to England?"

François laughed. "It was the last thing on my mind."

Jean emitted a sign of relief. Nevertheless, he felt uneasy. "And what will happen next?"

Absorbed in deep thoughts, François tapped his chin. Then his face illuminated with a smile as he turned to glance at Jean. "I will make a deal with Lady Anne – I will marry her."

Jean felt his jaw dropping. He swallowed hard. Uneasiness and disbelief nearly choked him, and that feeling increased a hundredfold as he looked at the King's serious face. "Your Majesty, as far as I remember, you are married."

"Not any longer," François clarified. His grin widened and his amber eyes twinkled with delight. "In May the Pope annulled my marriage to the Emperor's elder sister Eleanor."

Monsieur Jean didn't know what to say. He kept silent. The silence between Jean and François was now an uncomfortable, yet curious thing.

"Your Majesty, are you indeed going to marry Anne?" the old man asked to reassure himself.

The King smiled with a confident, effortless smile. "I will marry Lady Anne if she accepts my proposal. I will talk to her as soon as she feels better. It would be the marriage of convenience and mutual benefit. The reasons for the marriage are purely political." François paused. He cleared his throat. "Monsieur Jean, I think you understand."

Jean silently nodded. There was nothing more he needed to say on the matter.

* * *

**_June 16, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Anne was getting better and better every day. She still was a little pale and spent the majority of her time in the bed. Her life was in no danger. However, the physician ordered her to stay in the bed for another week in order not to provoke a new wave of fever and to let the wound heal up.

Anne knew that King François often came to _the Palazzo Montreuil_. She didn't know what would happen now. She was afraid of the day when François would finally visit her and she would have to face him and explain what had happened to her. What would the King of France do with her? Anne was expecting his visit as the Day of Atonement.

While Anne was spending her time in the bed, King François and his courtiers had many meetings with the Dodge of the Republic of Venice and Venetian ministers. It appeared that the Republic of Venice was delighted to have an alliance with France and to support France in the Italian war with the Emperor. Both parties spent much time discussing various clauses of the alliance treaty.

François was standing outside Anne's bedchamber at _the Palazzo Montreuil_. They were not in France or in England – they were in the city of Venice. She was not Anne Boleyn, the Queen of England, and she wasn't the woman she was pretending to be. François silently questioned how much Anne had changed after her dreadful near-death escapades with King Henry.

When King François knocked at the door and came inside, he noticed that Anne was alone in the room. Holding a book in her hands, she was lying on the large bed, wrapped in fine creamy silk bedcovers. As she remarked that François was her visitor, she inwardly shuddered, but her face didn't betray her true emotions. Her eyes observed his figure moving in her direction. As usual, he was dressed in luxurious Italian clothes, wearing the doublet of light blue brocade, beaded with lapis, rubies and jade, and the black Venetian pants. It matched to perfection the feathered toque of a darker blue hue. François, who was fascinated by Italian fashions, had his tailors copy for him that country's most current styles.

François stood rooted as his amber eyes met her blue orbs. He was almost breathless. He didn't forget the details of her: the long line of her nose, her strikingly blue eyes, her slim, pink lips, and the magnetic, graceful bearing of a Dorian statue. Anne had always drawn men to herself unintentionally, and the King of France was no exception, even if he was going to make a proposal to her mainly because of political reasons.

François bowed and smiled. "Good afternoon, Lady Anne," he said in French. He decided not to scare her and used French instead of English as she was pretending to be the subject of France.

Anne inhaled and exhaled sharply. She felt as though the chillness of death was approaching her. Although the King spoke to her in French, he referred to her as "Lady Anne", not as "Lady Anne". She was frightened, but she forced a fake smile. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty. I hope you will forgive me for not rising from the bed," she replied in flawless French.

The King's smile turned broader. "Lady Anne, only if you forgive me for not coming sooner to see you," he said good-humoredly.

The King was still standing and staring at her. To avoid the awkwardness of the situation, Anne decided to be a good hostess to the King of France. She managed a wan smile. "Would you like to take a seat in that armchair, Your Majesty?"

"Thank you, Lady Anne." François settled himself in the whimsically carved, velvet-cushioned armchair. "I hope you are feeling much better today than ten days ago during our last meeting."

"Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. Indeed, I am feeling much better."

"What are you reading?"

"It is _the Prince_ by _Niccolò Machiavelli_," she replied.

François smiled with a friendly smile. "It is one of the finest books on political philosophy. In fact, we must thank _Pope Clement VII _who permitted to print this book in 1532, five years after Machiavelli's death. I consider us to be lucky that we are in Italy now because it is impossible to find this book in France."

Anne looked at him in disbelief. "I didn't know that it is not available in France."

The King shrugged helplessly. "I see that there is some more room for the enculturation of the French society." He chuckled. "Perhaps, I should become a more enthusiastic patron of arts."

Anne was amazed with his words. "Your Majesty, you have done so much for France!" Her voice was edged with sincerity and appreciation.

The King's mouth curved into an endearingly crooked smile. "Lady Anne, I am happy that you liked the time you had spent at the French court."

Anne felt her hands tremble at the King's words. She put the book down on her lap, resting her hands above her bedcover, and shut her eyes for an instance, gathering her composure. She needed patience. She needed composure. In that case she would be able to treat François indifferently and politely, not revealing her weakness to him. It was her weapon against everybody from her past. Every movement counted. She inhaled and opened the eyes. She stared at the King. She was silent.

The silence spun about them, reluctant and agonized. François broke it. "Lady Anne, I must express my most sincere gratitude to you for saving my life in the Cathedral."

Anne was afraid of him at that moment. She tensed. "Your Majesty, it was my duty to save my sovereign," she murmured.

He didn't correct her that he wasn't her King because she was English by birth. "I would be happy if everybody thought so." He cast an ever-penetrating gaze at Anne. "The Holy Roman Emperor's people think that they have a right to murder the King of France," he stated.

Anne blinked. "_Emperor_ _Charles V_?"

"Yes, _Charles V_," he confirmed. "It is not his first attempt to kill me. The last time when they tried to assassinate me was three weeks ago in Piedmont. His Eminence Cardinal de Tournon saved my life at that time. Two more attempts on my life had been prevented before."

The blue eyes revealed a mixture of bewilderment and sympathy. "I am very sorry, Your Majesty."

"I will survive." François looked up at the ceiling with magnificent Renaissance frescoes, and then his gaze wandered to Anne. "I won't go round and round the subject of my today's visit. I wanted not only to thank you for the salvation of my life, but also to personally greet you in the Republic of Venice and to offer you one deal."

A flicker of horror passed over her face. Then her facial expression became expressionless, her eyes blank. "Your Majesty, I would be happy to serve you." Inside she was shaking with fright. She acknowledged that he had already known who she had been in her former life. Most likely, there was no use to refute it. What was he up to? What was he going to do?

It was evident for François that horror had overcome Anne. "To tell you the truth, Lady Anne, I was almost blown away in the first days after the incident in the Church. However, very soon I realized that my suggestion about your true personality was correct," the well-modulated baritone spoke. He trailed off and looked at her. As he distinguished naked pain in her blue eyes for an instance before they turned blank, he felt his heart swelling with sympathy to her. He sighed heavily. He had to ease her fears. "Lady Anne, I am not going to inform King Henry that you are alive. On the contrary, I am going to help you and in return you will help me."

Anne brushed her slender fingers across her slim alabaster throat, as though she had tried to avoid being strangled. "Your Majesty, I am sorry, but I don't understand."

The strong tide of softness filled him, and he smiled. "I will help you clear your name in England, although it won't be easy."

Anne gasped. "But…" She was at loss.

"I will help you clear your name," François confirmed. He smiled with a slow, broad smile. "I suppose that it is Thomas Cromwell who designed that dreadful charade with false accusations," he assumed.

"Yes," she said numbly.

"Like you, I also don't like Cromwell because he champions an alliance between England and the Holy Roman Empire. Besides, I don't like what King Henry had done to me, and, of course, I don't appreciate the behavior of the Emperor."

"I see," she muttered.

The King brought his finger to his chin for a moment. "Do you know what Henry did to me?"

Anne didn't know where the conversation was going. "No, I don't."

François laughed bitterly. "King Henry financially supported the Emperor in the Italian War of 1521–1526, which ended with my captivity at Pavia."

"I didn't know about that," Anne replied honestly.

"And neither did I because it had been a secret for many years before my spies discovered it a year ago," François replied. "I was abashed when I learnt about Henry's betrayal."

Startled and shocked, Anne stared in the emptiness of the room. "Cardinal Thomas Wolsey had always favored France in public. What a hypocritical political strategy Wolsey followed! I have always thought that Wolsey had been a cunning man, but I could have never imagined the level of his hypocrisy." She was amazed to the marrow of her bones.

"Exactly right."

"I suppose His Majesty King Henry did it in order to seek the Pope's support when he was trying to obtain the divorce from _Catherine of Aragon_. The Emperor interfered and influenced the Pope to delay the consideration of the English King's case. I guess King Henry and Wolsey tried to cajole the Emperor from another angle, but it didn't help," Anne speculated. She was very impersonal toward her former husband and his first wife.

François smiled. He liked how Anne was thinking. Once again he saw that she had an incredible mind. Unlike many other women, she was capable of thinking strategically and politically. She was born to control and to rule. She would be the great Queen Consort. "Lady Anne, you are absolutely right." He emitted a heavy sign. "You know that my two sons spent several years in captivity in Madrid." He paused and glanced into her eyes. As she nodded in acknowledgement, he went on. "My eldest son François never regained his health after the captivity. He died less than a year ago. Therefore, I cannot forgive both Charles and Henry," he said.

Anne looked into François' eyes. "Your Majesty, I understand you," she replied compassionately. Then she turned her head as she didn't want him to see raw emotions – pain – in her eyes. She understood him because she also lost her unborn child due to Henry's lust for Jane Seymour.

The King smiled wistfully. "I know." His gaze searched her, but she averted her eyes. "Lady Anne, as I said, I want to make a deal with you," he said straightforwardly.

The last sentence returned Anne to reality. She stared at him, her face as a mask of iron. "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

He drew a finger through his hair. "Maybe you know that my second forced marriage to the Emperor's sister was annulled by the Pope."

Anne nodded. "Yes."

François smiled with an easy smile. "Now I want to marry you. I hope you don't object." As he didn't want to scare her, his voice was quiet and silky. "I am sure you will be a brilliant wife to me," he added, his lips lengthening into a smile.

The King's announcement was like a stab of a sword or a javelin in Anne's heart. She expelled a long breath and then stared at François. After a minute of confusion and embarrassment, Anne spoke. "Your Majesty, I am sorry…"

"This marriage is a sort of a bargain. It is a matter of politics," he enlightened shortly.

Anne's eyes grew wide. She swallowed hard and then swallowed again, feeling how her heart was hammering so hard from anxiety that it was nearly bursting through her basque. "A matter of politics?" she echoed.

François let out an elfin laugh so that a row of straight white teeth showed. "A matter of politics and mutual benefit for both of us," he declared. He gazed right into her eyes. He held the gaze of those shimmering blue eyes he had remembered for a long time. Her eyes were almost hypnotic, and he sought to break the spell of it by looking away, but an invisible hand redirected his gaze back to her face and to her eyes.

François explained to Anne his reasoning and what he was intending to do. His plan was crafty and sophisticated, very well-thought and reasonable. The more he was talking, the more Anne realized how logical his proposal was. The King of France was a practical and intelligent man and seemed to have thought about the matter well in advance before he offered her to marry him.

* * *

**_June 18, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Anne's mind whirled with many thoughts and questions. Now she had a chance to become the Queen of France, though an uncrowned Queen for a while before her name was finally cleared from the wretched lies in England, which could have happened quite soon if François' plans worked. And if it didn't happen, what would she do? Would François cast her aside and annul his marriage to her if her name remains in shatters forever?

Was that really her real fate? Anne escaped from the King of England and terrible death from his hands, and now she was caught by another King – the King of France. She tried so hard not to think of her past and pain. From her past, she only wanted to remember her children, her mother Elizabeth and her eldest sister Mary, as well as Henry Percy and, probably, her father. She wanted to forget King Henry and his cruelty because every time her mind drifted back to her ex-husband, the wounds of her heart were torn open again. She was afraid and she was tired from constant nightmarish fears. She didn't want to play the games of the court where loyalty and stability sounded like a joke. She was tired of cold politics, crafty stabs in the backs of courtiers, a poisonous cobweb of intrigues, and exorbitant ambitions of courtiers.

Anne also remembered about her sister, Lady Mary Boleyn Stafford, who had King François's inamorata many years ago. Mary was quickly enamored with the handsome King of France and lost herself in his arms. She fell in love with François and for some time even thought that her feelings were mutual, but she was mistaken because her lover discarded her without any second thoughts. Mary was disgraced and heartbroken. The evil feelings – contempt and disgust, abhorrence ripened in Anne's heart as she remembered that the King of France referred to her sister Mary as "_the English mare_" and as "_a great whore, infamous above all_". As she heard about it many years ago, Anne hated François with all her heart. Moreover, Anne heard the rumors that when Mary Boleyn was called the Greatest Whore by the French courtiers, François laughed and said that she had been eager to sleep with the Kings and with anyone on both sides of the Channel. It could have been the rumors, but it infuriated Anne. Over time her anger at François' subsided, and she tended to disregard the past. However, now her own life could have been entwined with François' life, and the unpleasant facts about Mary's affair with François again came to Anne's consideration. What could Anne expect from François? Would he call her "_his English mare_"? Would he tell his friends in private that he had married the Harlot who slept with two Kings? Or would he invent something new, perhaps more eccentric and especially for her? Yet, many years passed, and King François had matured since that time; she had also changed. Maybe her fears were exaggerated, she mused.

Most importantly, Anne wanted to take her revenge on King Henry for all his cruelty and barbarity he had done to her and their children. She was no longer Henry's wife because he had annulled their marriage in May 1536, almost immediately after her imprisonment. He bastardized their daughter Elizabeth and refused even to have a look at his son Arthur. King Henry wanted Anne Boleyn to die, and what the King wanted he got. Anne Boleyn was technically dead, while the new Anne Boleyn was very different. The new Anne Boleyn was a cold and a dispassionate woman, and she wanted justice and revenge. She embodied herself not only the dying-and-rising Goddess_ Persephone, _but also the remorseless Goddess _Nemesis_. She craved for revenge on Henry, and she wanted his repentance. She wanted to be the balancer of justice and the distributor of fortune in due proportion to Henry Tudor according to what he deserved.

Besides, Anne had already tasted power in England. And if somebody held power once, it was very hard to refuse and backtrack it later. Marriage to the King of France was dangerous. The opportunity was forced on her – she didn't want it and François offered it by himself. Yet, that marriage was less hazardous in another matter: Anne didn't love François. If she didn't love him, she would be able to look at the situation with her eyes widely open. Her mind wouldn't be blinded by love and passion, and François would help her clear her name. Indeed, it would be a marriage of mutual benefit for each of them, and nothing more.

Queen Catherine once told Anne that King Henry would tire of her, like it had happened to all the others. At that moment Anne laughed humorlessly at Catherine's words, and finally fate laughed at her. Anne was foolish enough to disregard what the deceased clever woman had thought about the issue. She ignored Catherine's warning and failed. Her marriage to François was a different thing. As she didn't love him, it would be relatively easy for her to disregard his future infidelity and other non-ideal aspects of a royal marriage. In addition, François would be less likely to tire of her quickly if he found out that she could have been useful to him. Finally, François was a very handsome man, and Anne didn't think that a marriage to him would be too awful.

Anne was convinced that François would have many mistresses if they had married. After all, he was the King of France who was known to be clothed in pleasantries from intimate encounters with various young and beautiful belles of France, having the reputation of a notorious womanizer who considered whoring for pleasure a daily sport, like hunting and wrestling. François frequently boasted of his special "_petite bande_" consisting of attractive females, and Anne thought that many of those women usually slid under the King's bedcovers sooner or later. François was also known to be involved in countless casual affairs with expensive courtesans and even with usual whores. Although Anne admitted that a part of the King's amorous glory had probably been exaggerated, it was still undoubted that François was a pleasure-seeker, which was a normal feature for the courtiers of the greatest cultural and artistic European court with the lax morality that prevailed there. She remembered very well that the French King himself declared on multiple occasions that "_the court without ladies was like a year without springtime, or a spring without roses_" or that "_the court without ladies was like a garden without flowers._" She herself heard those words when she accompanied Queen Claude of France at one of the banquets many years ago. If she married François, she would become the wife of the man who was always with fire and aflame for the ladies. Yet, Anne didn't love him and thus didn't care how many extramarital affairs he would have and how often he would acknowledge new _maîtresses-en-titre_. In any case, she wouldn't throw tantrums of jealousy at him in front of at the French court because she didn't love him.

Maybe the tragic outcome of Anne and Henry's romance was a sort of punishment for being so proud and so arrogant, as well as so assured that Henry would love her forever. Maybe it also was a punishment for treating Catherine's daughter Mary so poorly. Anne admitted to herself that she pitied Catherine for sharing a similar fate with herself, her fate being even worse than Catherine's. At the same time, Anne admitted to herself that she had also respected Catherine for holding on to her dignity till the very end. She asked herself whether she would have acted otherwise toward Mary and Catherine if she had had another chance. She didn't regret the birth of Elizabeth and she would do everything in her power to protect her child ahead of others in the line of succession to the throne. She was Anne Boleyn after all and she couldn't behave otherwise. In the meantime, she was thinking that she had possibly treated Mary too harshly and that she could have done more for Catherine. She truly didn't know and didn't have a certain answer. She was confused.

Anne agreed with François' reasoning that if everything worked well, her name would be perceived as a name of a martyr and a _savior_ of the King of France by the common people of France. The common people of England would also view her much better as soon as they learn that she had been innocent of all the charges brought against her by Cromwell. Given that she could prove herself being useful to François as she considered herself quite capable of giving political advises and ruling, he would be less likely to cast her aside. This time she would be more cautious because she had learned from her past mistakes in England.

There were too many questions Anne was considering in her mind. How will her marriage to François influence her children whom she had left behind in England? Was the potential gain worth the game? Could she risk and accept his marriage proposal? Finally, she concluded that it would be better to try to become allies with King François. Surely, it would be better than spending the rest of her life in obscurity, without any opportunity to influence her fate.

François stared at her, his face expressionless. "Anne, will you marry me?"

She noticed that he addressed to her as Anne now, not as Lady Anne. Why did he stop being formal? Probably, he decided that she would accept his proposal, being trapped, she mused. A million of thoughts slashed though her mind. What should she answer? No, she couldn't miss that opportunity. "Yes, I will," Anne said in a suffocated whisper.

François smiled at her. "I am delighted to hear it. We are allies now."

"Your Majesty, if we lose as allies, what will happen to me?"

François laughed. "Anne, the downfall of Cromwell is a matter of time. We will just accelerate it."

"His Majesty King Henry is trying to persuade himself that I was guilty. It is his nature to convince himself in order not to feel guilty," Anne pointed out.

"I understand it, Anne, but his sort of blindness can be cured," François assured.

Anne shrugged in uncertainty. "I hope so."

François sighed. He rose from his seat and came to her. He took her hands in his. "Anne, even if we both lose and your name isn't cleared, you will still be treated as a _savior_ of the King and a hero who inspired the French to struggle against the Emperor." He squeezed her right hand tighter. "And if we lose, my marriage would be the marriage to _Anne Gabrielle Marguerite de Ponthieu_."

Anne raised her brows in astonishment. "A marriage under secret identity?"

He nodded. "Yes, in the worst case. And I will never confirm who you are." He smiled. "But we won't need it because we won't lose."

Anne smiled at him. He seemed to be very confident. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

As Anne smiled, François thought that it was the most beautiful and enchanting smile in the world. He was mesmerized. He could see only that smile at that moment, and all other things evaporated from his mind.

* * *

**_June 20, 1537, Palazzo Barbarigo, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Cardinal François de Tournon stared at King François in disbelief. He was sure that he had misheard when the King said to him that he was going to marry Madame Anne de Ponthieu or Lady Anne Boleyn. He just couldn't believe that it was going to happen. "Your Majesty, are you indeed going to marry Lady Anne?"

King François shook his head. "Yes."

"Did she accept your proposal?"

"She accepted," the King replied shortly.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry for asking, but are you sure that it is the best decision to marry Lady Anne?" Tournon asked anxiously. "Lady Anne Boleyn is assumed to be dead. Are you going to marry Madame Anne de Ponthieu, not Lady Anne Boleyn?

"I am going to marry simply Lady Anne. I suppose the name of my bride will be kept in secret until I find it acceptable to disclose it in public," François explained. "Even my children so far don't need to know about it."

"Will you do any public announcement, Your Majesty?"

The King gave a nod. "Yes, but without any reference to the name of my bride. So far we will keep everything in secret. We have enough reasons for secrecy. There were several assassination attempts on my life, and we want to protect my Queen."

"It sounds as a plausible explanation for the world."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

Cardinal was quiet for a moment. "Your Majesty, I understand that there are many political reasons for you to marry Lady Anne, but the benefits from this marriage would materialize in full measure only if her name in England is cleared from those false charges."

François smiled. Tournon verbalized his own thoughts. "I know, Your Eminence. I am planning to help Lady Anne clear her name in England."

"Your Majesty, how will you do it, if I may ask?"

"There are many interesting thoughts in my mind." His eyes turned more intense. "Cromwell is responsible for these ridiculous charges."

"Undoubtedly, Cromwell engineered the plan of Lady Anne's downfall."

The King smiled with a transcendental smile. "Once it is proved that Lady Anne is innocent, I will be able to publicly announce that I am married to Anne Boleyn. Given her innocence and her reputation as _a savior of the King_, it would be enough for the common people to accept her. They will adore her even more once they realize that she, being innocent, had been sentenced to death by her cruel husband King Henry immediately after the birth of her son by the King. Lady Anne would be worshiped as a _martyr_ in France and even in England."

Tournon laughed outright. "Your Majesty, if your plans materialize and I am sure, they will, Lady Anne may become the Queen worshiped and loved in France and possibly even in England."

François shook his head. "My marriage to Lady Anne is an important political step." As he said that, he felt that his heart began hammering harder, blood throbbing in his temples. He remembered her smile and also smiled. "France needs loyal England and established alliances with German Protestant states," he affirmed.

"These things are very important for France," Tournon agreed.

"The matter of my marriage to Lady Anne is confidential. Only you, Your Eminence, and Monsieur Jacques de la Brosse will know the true identity of my new wife," François warned.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Tournon returned.

"When and where are you planning to have the wedding?" Cardinal asked.

"It will take place here in Venice very soon, after Lady Anne recovers completely."

"Your Majesty, I will prepare everything for the wedding."

François smiled affably. "Thank you, Your Eminence." He paused for an instance, his finger tapping his chin. "If you don't mind, then you will lead the ceremony. Monsieur Jean de Montreuil and Monsieur Jacques de la Brosse will be our witnesses," he supplemented.

Tournon also smiled. "It is an honor for me to be your witness." He liked to be so close to the King of France and in such a great favor.

A thought struck François, and his face revealed seriousness and thoughtfulness. He was silent for a minute. Tournon didn't dare to speak. Then the King stared at Tournon. "Your Eminence, please contact my sister Marguerite. As a Regent of France, she is in Paris now. As you know, she has contacts with many artists and writers. Among them there is _Clément Marot_ who used to have prominent ideas about the Reformation in France. I want _Clément Marot_ to prepare the large critical book on the deals of Thomas Cromwell in England and on the inhumanity of burning at the stake the anointed Queen of England who recently had a child. In addition, I want the poet _Mellin de Saint-Gelais _to prepare the incriminating pamphlets about Thomas Cromwell."

"Your Majesty, are you going to distribute in public the book and the pamphlets when they are ready?"

François smiled. "Of course, Your Eminence. They will be distributed both in England and in France. It will be interesting to observe Cromwell's reaction. I really want to pick Cromwell's feathers off. In addition, it will distract Henry from any possible scheming with the Emperor against France."

"It will be entertaining." Tournon chuckled. He would love to see how Cromwell would be distressed and how he would explain to the King of England what was going on.

"Please ask our ambassador to England, Philippe de Chabot, and our spies at the English court to give me the names of the people who were questioned during the investigation of Lady Anne's case. We must have the detailed information," the King commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Tournon said with a bow. "Without Cromwell the foreign policy of England will be more rational and more loyal to the interests of France," he added.

"Maybe not so loyal, but certainly not so radical," the King of France said musingly.

"We will also need to secure the papal dispensation for the marriage," the Cardinal warned.

François frowned. "We cannot do it at this stage. Why do we need it?"

The Cardinal coughed. "I am sorry to remind Your Majesty about the past, but I have to do this right now. If my memory serves me well, Lady Mary Boleyn, now known as Lady Mary Stafford, was your mistress many years ago. As a result, Your Majesty and Lady Stafford have a sort of kinship relationship created by out of marriage intercourse."

"Affinity," François said dryly.

"Exactly." Tournon nodded. "We need the dispensation for the marriage as the affinity rules would be breached if you marry Lady Anne."

Throwing his companion a look of understanding and appreciation, the King spoke. "We will receive this dispensation, even if I have to pressure the Pope." He smirked. "But I am sure that the Pope won't reject my demand once Lady Anne's name is cleared. As soon as we make an announcement about my marriage to Lady Anne, we will appeal to the Pope for the dispensation. We must have it in our hands at the earliest convenience in order to ensure that my enemies, especially the King of England and the Emperor, won't be able to proclaim my marriage null and void."

"When the time comes, I will take care of it, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Your Eminence. I know that you will never fail me."

* * *

**_June 28, 1537, Hampton Court Palace, County of Middlesex, England_**

Two of Queen Jane's brothers – Thomas Seymour and his elder brother Edward Seymour, Viscount Beauchamp – stormed into the Queen's chamber. It often happened to these two brothers that they ignored the royal protocol and etiquette after their sister Jane had become the Queen of England. Thomas and Edward liked the taste of power and status, and they were going to use it up to their own advantage.

As they came into her chamber, Jane asked her ladies-in-waiting to leave them alone. Only her sister _Elizabeth Seymour, Lady Cromwell_, Jane's chief lady-in-waiting, wasn't dismissed. She sighed as she noticed uneasy expressions on the faces of her brothers. What else happened? What did she do incorrectly? She predicted that they would lecture her now how to attract the King and keep his love. It happened regularly after marriage to King Henry.

In accordance with the rules of etiquette, Edward bowed slightly. Thomas also bowed.

Edward stared at Jane with silent rebuke in his face. "Jane, why are you continuing to push the King to legitimize Lady Mary and to allow her to marry?"

Jane lowered her eyes, staring at her needlework. "Edward, who told you about it?"

"His Majesty King Henry," Edward answered sharply. He was irritated and angry. "Jane, don't you understand that you are simply making the King furious? You are driving him away from yourself." He paused, his voice deepening. "Lady Mary cannot be allowed to marry anyone, at least not now. Also, she mustn't be legitimized. If she gets married, she will probably have children who might be considered to be additional heirs to the throne. We don't need this."

"Come now, Edward. Don't be so harsh with our dear Jane," Thomas interjected. "I am sure that she understands everything."

"Jane, you must understand that Edward and Thomas are right," Elizabeth declared.

Jane sighed. "You know how I respected and loved Queen Catherine. It is the reason why I asked my husband to restore Princess Mary to the line of succession and to find a husband for her."

"Lady Mary," Edward amended. "And you, Jane, did it several times."

Jane nodded. "Twice," she clarified.

Elizabeth laughed. "If you are behaving so thoughtlessly, Jane, then never complain that the King lost his interest in you."

Thomas glanced away. "Sister, you know that Lady Ursula Misseldon has been the King's mistress since April. There are also other mistresses with whom the King shares his bed from time to time. Rest assured, Jane, there are many women at the court who are ready to slide under his bedcovers anytime."

Jane winced at those words. She knew that in the last couple of months Henry became more distant from her. He treated her with great care and excessive politeness, but it was as though he had been distracted to something else when she was talking to him. She had already noticed it. At times when she looked at Henry she thought that the happiness was gone from them his hazel eyes as they didn't sparkle as often as they did when he saw the Harlot, even during the last months of their troubled marriage. At times Jane even thought that all that remained in Henry seemed to be a shallow sense of obligation that moved him through his duties. Then Henry again became joyful and attentive to her, and she concluded that her previous thoughts were absurd. Did her husband still care for the Harlot, the Great Whore of England? No, that just couldn't be after how the Harlot had betrayed him with so many men. He couldn't care for that adulteress. Jane was a model wife, the true English rose, and she had no reason to be jealous to the memory of the deceased sinful woman.

"I know that the King spends much time with Lady Ursula Misseldon," Jane agreed.

"They spend much time together in the bed," Edward spat.

"His Majesty often summons Lady Ursula Misseldon to his chambers even during the daytime," Elizabeth commented.

Thomas was also disappointed with the turn of events, but they could do nothing with the King's mistresses. "Edward and Elizabeth, it doesn't matter now," he spoke in a soft voice. "It is Jane's duty to endure what the King is doing. She is the Queen of England." He paused and gazed interrogatively at his sister. "And Jane will be tolerant with the King's mistresses, always smiling at them and greeting them."

"Don't worry, I remember about the fates of my predecessors. I won't talk to my husband about the legitimization of Lady Mary anymore," Jane promised.

"And refrain from talking to him about Lady Mary's marriage," Edward ordered.

Jane only sighed. "Yes, I will."

Edward smiled. "Very well, Jane."

"It is enough that you reconciled Lady Mary and the King," Elizabeth interjected.

Thomas laughed low in his throat. "Jane, you must concentrate on your duty as the Queen to deliver the healthy son to the King in several months."

"The King expects the male heir from you. Recall that you haven't been crowned as the Queen of England yet," Edward invaded. "Your coronation is dependent on the fulfillment of your wifely duties, your duties as the Queen of England."

Jane forced a smile. "I remember about the coronation. I know that my child must be a boy. However, nothing could be changed now because I am already pregnant. I am praying to Lord that it is a boy." She always remembered about it. Her knees and fingers were shivering at the thought that she could fail the King like it happened to his two former wives. However, Jane tried to console herself with the fact that she was a good wife to the King. She was warned by the fate of the notorious Anne Boleyn, and she knew that King Henry didn't expect to see from her too great freedom of speech and too indulgent manners. In contrast to the Harlot, Jane was an embodiment of the opposite behavior as she put a bridle on her tongue. Her task was mainly to be an obedient wife and to listen to her husband, as well as to bear his children. Jane was very different from the Harlot, and thus God would bless her with a son in several months, she mused.

"We must hope that it is a boy," Thomas murmured under his breath.

"It should be a boy," Elizabeth said.

"Only in this case we will be safe." Edward trailed off as though thinking what to say next. "Although the Harlot is dead, her son is alive and lives at the household of the Harlot's sister, Lady Mary Stafford."

"But His Majesty hasn't acknowledged the boy! He said in front of the whole court that he is the bastard of two traitors," Jane objected.

Thomas stared at Jane. "The Harlot's bastard was named Arthur, and he has strong resemblance to the King in his appearance. I sent my man to visit Lady Mary Stafford's household, and he saw the child – he is the King's small copy." He didn't want to tell it to Jane, but the words automatically slid from his tongue.

"Thomas!" Elizabeth cried out anxiously.

Jane put her needlework aside and clapped her hands. "Oh, my Lord," she murmured. "You are mistaken, Thomas. It is impossible because the Harlot's son is a bastard. The Harlot slept with many men, and anybody can be the child's father."

Edward shot Thomas a killing glance and turned to face Jane. He forced a smile for her. "Of course, Thomas is mistaken. Those people who visited the household of the Harlot's sister, also the Great Whore, were mistaken. It is just rumors that bastard Arthur is the King's son." He needed to appease Jane.

"You are right, Edward. I am sure that that man was mistaken," Thomas said softly, understanding his own mistake. He reached for Jane's hand and slightly squeezed it. "Calm down, Jane. This boy is just the bastard of the Harlot. If you have a son, he and only he will be the future King of England. The Harlot's children will never inherit the throne."

"The Harlot is dead, and I am happy that it is so. She is no threat to us," Edward Seymour added with a malicious smile. "Now nobody will threaten us if you, Jane, have a son."

"And please don't try to bring Lady Elizabeth back to the court," Thomas recommended. "It would be safer for all of us. The King shouldn't see much of her because she always reminds him about the Harlot."

"Jane, we mustn't infuriate the King. Be careful what you say and what you do," Elizabeth recommended.

Jane didn't answer. Her heart was in her throat. She didn't like the Harlot and, honestly, didn't mind her death to happen because she considered her to be guilty in high treason, incest, and adultery. In the meantime, she didn't want the child to pay for the crimes of her mother. Even having a simple mind, Jane wasn't going to listen to her brothers and her sister in that matter. The child was innocent. Jane knew that she would never have such a deep feeling of devotion for Lady Elizabeth as she felt for Lady Mary Tudor, but the child was innocent. Jane thought that it was her obligation to become the intermediary between Elizabeth and her father. Therefore, she and Lady Mary were planning to finally bring Elizabeth to the court as soon as the King's anger at the Harlot would subside and after Jane would have her own son.

* * *

**_July 3, 1537, the Church of San Silvestro, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

It was all very dreamlike; incredible and fathomless. Yet, it was reality – it was the wedding day of _King François I of France_ and Anne Boleyn. Anne had been feeling uneasy since the early morning, and François had done everything he could to comfort her and ease her concerns. The wedding had been planned and organized in advance. Cardinal François de Tournon chose _the Church of San Silvestro_, built in the 12th century, in _the San Polo sestiere_. The main criterion for the choice of place was that its location mustn't have been in the center of Venice, as they had preferred to have more privacy. Indeed, the Church wasn't overcrowded, which made it easier to perform a secret wedding ceremony.

Both François and Anne were dressed in dazzling white clothes, like another couple a long time ago – _Anne de Bretagne, Queen of France_, and her third husband _King Louis XII_ _of France_. _Anne de Bretagne_ wore the first known white wedding dress on her wedding, which was the beginning of the custom of royal brides to wear white for their weddings. François and Anne together looked very regal, as a true royal wedding couple should. However, their faces weren't carefree and happy. It was as though they had been indifferent to the ceremony. Strictly speaking, it was Anne who put on the iron mask on her face in the morning of the wedding, while François only followed her example.

François and Anne slowly and graciously passed through the nave of the Church. François was utterly charmed because Anne looked like the Goddess on their wedding day. Her gown, her headdress and her jewels were perfect. Anne wore the magnificent tight gown of dazzling white brocade with, with the low square-cut neckline, the long train, the ample skirt, and the sleeves tight to the wrist. The sleeves and the front of the gown were ornamented with gold braid and diamonds. The train of the gown was made from light taffeta. The collar and the cuffs of the sleeves were faced with the massive row of white Venetian laces. Yards of dazzling white taffeta flowed behind Anne as the train of her gown swept across the marble floor as they stepped in the Church. Her headdress hid a mane of soft dark hair. The headdress had been designed in Venice to accentuate her eyes and delicate bone structure. The sparkling large oval cut diamond necklace adorned her bosom, and the pair of the matching diamond earrings featured her ears.

The King of France's costume matched Anne's wedding gown in both color and ornamentation. A usual, François was wearing clothes of extraordinary richness. He was dressed in the dazzling white taffeta _camicia_, an Italian shirt, with the standing band collar trimmed with white Venetian laces, the white puffy Venetian brocade pants, and the white low-necked brocade doublet. Each part of his costume was lavishly embroidered in gold and trimmed with diamonds. His attire was finished with the white velvet flat cap, which was trimmed with gold braid around the edge, decorated with one white feather, and jeweled with the diamond brooch, the so-called _affiquet_.

François noticed that there were no cosmetics on her face – Anne didn't need it to stress her exotic beauty. François involuntary compared her with another Anne, his _maîtresse en titre_ – Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes – who had often worn the cosmetics to appear more seductive to the King. Anne de Pisseleu carried a pomander on a gold chain which swung from her waist, so that the scent of violets François most enjoyed would continually surround her. François thought that Anne Boleyn didn't need it because her natural beauty and charm magnetized men around her, without anything extra to help her attract attention to herself.

The secret ceremony was conducted by Cardinal François de Tournon with Monsieur Jacques de la Brosse and Count Jean de Montreuil as the witnesses. Flames flickered atop dozens of long white tapers and set the nave aglow, along with the faces of their witnesses. The bride and the bridegroom, as well as witnesses silently bathed in warm amber light. Anne and François knelt together at the altar. Their hands linked under a silk bridal canopy, while many prayers and blessings were spoken by the Cardinal.

Anne felt as if she had been somewhere else during the entire wedding ceremony, not quite a part of her own body. As the Mass was spoken, the songs sung in Latin and French, she stood regally still, not thinking about the next part of the ceremony. Everything happened very quickly, and Anne hardly noticed how they were exchanging marriage vows. Her brain registered the King of France's steady voice and her own replies in a quiet voice amid the blaze of hundreds of candles around them. The image of Henry Tudor took hold like a flame, flared brightly in her mind, then burned and faded as François took her hands. François slipped the small beautiful golden ruby ring – the royal wedding ring – onto her finger, officially making her the Queen of France. Before she realized it, they had been declared a husband and wife. At the end of the ceremony, François kissed Anne in her lips. Anne remained frozen during the kiss, her shock and abashment preventing her from responding in time. Yet, she felt his lips on hers, and it was normal because François was her husband. Their kiss was a kiss of mutual acceptance of their fate as political allies.

Anne knew that her marriage served as a necessary step at that stage of her life. It would help her a great deal. It could help her children. She would again have power in her hands if they didn't lose. However, Anne still thought that she was daydreaming. At the same time, she realized that her former husband Henry Tudor had somehow appeared to be unreal and had been left somewhere in the past. Only dark thirst for revenge filled her heart at that moment.

As François and Anne walked together back down the aisle toward the chapel doors, she caught his gaze. There was something incomprehensible in his eyes. The entire small secret wedding procession paraded down _the Fondamenta Vin Castello_ along the Grand Canal. They were surrounded by numerous sword-bearing guards. François' gaze didn't meet Anne's as they strolled down the street. They crossed a bridge of gondolas spanning the Grand Canal and soon stepped inside the luxurious royal gondola. After half an hour sail on the gondola, they finally arrived _en masse_ at _the Palazzo Montreuil_. Later Anne, Monsieur Jean, King François, Jacques de la Brosse, and Cardinal François de Tournon had a small dinner together.

* * *

**_Night of July 3, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

After the dinner, Cardinal François de Tournon and Jacques de la Brosse left _the Palazzo Montreuil_. By the wedding day, François and many of his personal guards had already moved to _the Palazzo Montreuil_ from _the Palazzo Barbarigo_. The wedding night was supposed to happen at _the Palazzo Montreuil._

In the late evening, Anne retired to the large bedchamber that was prepared especially for the newly wedded couple, as she was no longer assumed to occupy her old room. The room was decorated in the Renaissance style. The walls were hung with ivory and gold brocade. One of the walls was covered with frescoes displaying scenes set in ancient Greece and Rome. In the center of the room, there was the wide bed that was rendered entirely in fine Italian walnut and boasted with crossmatched veneer panels flanked by a pair of tapered, fluted and carved columns on each corner. The bed was covered in ivory and gold tapestry. The bedside tables were inlaid with marble and tortoise. Many ivory, gold, and silver tapestried couches and delicately carved chairs were placed on large Italian carpets. In the corner of the room, there was a heavy walnut table with a multitude of books in French and Italian.

Anne's maids loosened her headdress and removed it. Then they helped Anne peel off her wedding gown, her undergarments, and her elegant velvet slippers. They took her clothes into the dressing room. Then she was bathed in aromatic lavender water. Later they helped Anne put on her white silk nightgown. When the undressing ritual was complete, she was left alone in the bedchamber. She sat on the bed and held the point of her chin between two fingers, her brows fused in a small frown. She was thinking about their wedding night.

When she had accepted François' proposal, Anne had tried not to think about the wedding night. She didn't love François and he didn't love her. The last man in her bed was her former husband Henry Tudor whom she had loved, but who had betrayed her and their children and who destroyed her life. Anne wondered whether she could find it within herself to sleep with François if she hadn't loved him. Maybe she should disappear from the bedroom before François came. Maybe their union should remain unconsummated. She looked in the direction of the door, and the thought to lock herself inside the room struck her. Then Anne let out a laugh, as she knew that François would have laughed at her if he had known her thoughts. She wouldn't run away, she mused. She wasn't a coward and an idiot, to run away from the battlefield. And a marital bed was like a battlefield with her fears of that night.

Her brain was ready to explode from many thoughts. Anne knew that love matches were rare in real life, especially at the court and especially between the royal couples. Their marriage had political roots and was in a direct sense only a marriage of convenience. It was normal that a husband and a wife performed their marital duties without love. She was François' wife, and she was implicitly assumed to act like it. Anne thought of King Henry against her will. Henry was married to Jane Seymour and spent many nights with her. Henry had also betrayed Anne many times with his mistresses throughout their marriage. Somehow, Anne felt vengeful and rancorous. Why couldn't she pay back to Henry with the same coin? She wanted to take her revenge on Henry, and felt that she must use each and every chance. In addition, it would be better if her marriage to King François was consummated because Anne was still afraid that François could try to annul their marriage in case something went wrong, against their plans. Marriage consummation would prevent him from easily casting her aside.

A sonorous French voice returned Anne back to reality. She raised her head and saw King François who was dressed in the long tight black silk night robe in the Arabesque style as the fabric was slashed with birds in a highly naturalistic, eccentric setting. He was standing right in front of her.

"Anne," François called out.

Anne quickly sprang to her feet. She sank into a deep, gracious curtsy. "Your Majesty," her voice resonated.

François smiled mellowly and took her hand in his own. He led her to the marble table in the corner of the room. Anne's gaze shifted from his face to where the King was staring. On that table she saw the Crown Jewels on several ivory silk pillows. The jewels were a glittering array of necklaces, including diamond, ruby, topaz, emerald, sapphire, and pearl necklaces. Anne counted the necklaces – there were nine pieces in total. Each necklace had the matching pair of earrings. Near the table with necklaces, on the Italian _cassoni_, the so-called marriage chest, Anne found other jewels, including two triangular brooches, one diamond and sapphire, as well as one black pearl circular brooch. Three diamond, ruby, and pearl bracelets were shimmering near the brooches.

"Your Majesty," Anne murmured, perplexed and agitated. "I assume these are the Crown Jewels."

"Now they are yours," François said simply. "These pieces are only a small part of the Crown Jewels. His Eminence Cardinal de Tournon arranged the delivery of these items from Paris. Nobody has worn them before you – neither Claude nor Eleanor or somebody else. You see, I have recently expanded the collection of the Crown Jewels." He enlightened Anne on the matter because he wanted her to know that these jewels hadn't been worn by his mistresses.

A little stunned, she stared ahead, in the emptiness of the room. "Thank you very much, Your Majesty," she replied quickly.

He smiled at the absent-minded expression on her face. "Do you like them?"

"I do like them, but they are far too generous gift," she responded.

"You are my wife and have every right to wear them," François said.

"Then it is as Your Majesty wishes," Anne said unfeignedly.

There was the long, odd silence between them, during which both of them seemed to be searching for words. Anne glanced away at the jewels. At last, she gained enough strength to look at the King of France. François was watching her from the corner of his eyes, a vague smile curving his lips.

As he realized what she was probably thinking about, François looked at Anne as though she had been harboring some great secret. "Anne, we don't need to share the bed today if you don't want it," he pronounced. He wasn't the man who would pressure the woman to sleep with him. He had always thought that physical love was a matter of art or at least a matter of mutual acceptance. Did they have that mutual acceptance? At that early point he didn't know.

The tender concern of François' voice calmed the edges of her dark fear and hesitancy. Anne shook her head in disagreement. "We are a husband and a wife. It is normal for us." Her voice sounded meager and strained, uttered without gesture or expression.

However, Anne couldn't help but think about Henry Tudor. She remembered their nights together and shut her eyes for an instance. She wouldn't think any more about that cruel beast, she swore. But those haunting thoughts didn't want to leave her alone. Anne took a deep breath and blew it out, as though trying to recover from a wind blow.

François arched a brow. "Are you certain that this is what you want?" He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable and to press her.

Anne managed a smile. She appreciated his patience. "I am sure, Your Majesty." She brushed her slender hand across her bosom. Then she stepped forward. The quite sound of her footsteps marked her agreement, and each step took her closer to him. She paused near the bed. She had to consummate their marriage because it would be better for her in many aspects.

François came to the bedside table and put out the blaze of the candles. Then he did the same with all the candles in the room. He did it for her. From his rich experience, women, especially newly wedded brides, felt less uncomfortable in the darkness. "If you say so," he spelled out discreetly.

Anne didn't understand why François wanted to have the semidarkness in the room. "Why darkness?" she inquired quietly.

The vivid silver moonlight filled the room, allowing them to see each other. As their eyes locked, his smile broadened and warmed the contours of his handsome face. "I want to see you in the moonlight," he replied softly.

"I think that it is a charming idea," she conceded, speaking because it was better than saying nothing.

François approached Anne and tenderly embraced her. He bent his head, and his lips, at first, only brushed hers. Then they met in a soft, gentle kiss, barely touching. He pulled away and looked into her eyes. He touched his forehead to hers and drew his hands up to cradle her face. "You are so beautiful, Anne." His voice was a deep, low baritone. "I won't offend you. I want you to believe me." He didn't know why he said that and why he wished to be so tender and so caressing with her. The words just slipped from his tongue.

The moon shimmered through the window near the bed onto her alabaster skin. Their dark figures silhouetted against a background of the wall lit by the moonlight. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Anne murmured. She felt as if her heart would crash through her thorax or stop altogether. She felt fear, despair, curiosity, and even excitement, an unusual combination of feelings.

François gazed into her blue eyes that sparkled in the moonlight. He put a finger to her lips. "Shhh," he whispered. "I promise that I won't hurt you," he assured.

Anne's lips were parted, and for François it was an impossible, inviting signal. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. The warmth of his skin gave Anne an instant's warning before his lips, firm and tender, brushed against hers. François slowed the kiss, so that he could slide his fingers up her waist. He undid a button on her night robe, then another and another one. Then he disrobed himself and helped Anne put off her nightgown. All their night clothes were on the floor. He lifted her and carried her on the bed.

François drew back the heavy ivory and gold damask tapestried bedcover. Then he slightly pushed Anne back down onto the ivory silk sheet and kissed her in her lips. She closed her eyes. He was atop of her, his lips traveled down her alabaster throat, exploring her body and soon returned to her mouth. François felt that a deep and powerful ache coursed through him – he wanted her so much that it was painful for him, but he suppressed his wild desire and was very cautious with her. He moved his hand behind her neck and kissed her in her lips. Anne opened her eyes and looked at François and saw Henry Tudor. She hated Henry at that moment, and that hatred emboldened her. As François kissed her, Anne responded to his kiss, and her tongue outlined the curves of his lips and then entered his mouth. Now it was she who sank willingly into his arms – she made a sign that she accepted him. She again glanced at him and saw that he wasn't Henry – he was François. It was so strange for her.

François was so tender that Anne hardly noticed how he gently invaded into her body. As she realized what had happened, she stared at him in astonishment with her large, almond-shaped blue eyes. He whispered something in French in such a quiet, silken voice that Anne didn't understand that. François smiled at her, and his mouth again crushed on hers in soft and gentle kiss, his lips and tongue relishing its sweetness, his hands delighting in the firm flesh of her slender, voluptuous body. Then he began to move with slow and languid movements. Although it happened not at once, soon Anne felt fire humming in her blood, her body one burning ache for physical release. She felt as though she had been flying down and down, then up and again up, but those sensations were overcoming her at a slow speed. It was so different from her sensations she had with Henry in the bed. As they joined their bodies in a dance of physical love, a symphony of matrimony sounded louder and louder. Anne quickly lost her orientation in the shimmering glow of the moon, and their bodies cast shadows on the wall. The room was spinning around her, and everything seemed to flicker, like a flame caught in a draft. At last, a wave of dark, spiraling pleasure slashed through her body, and his lips captured her quite moan, kissing her deeply. François groaned and sank slowly down onto her warm body, kissing her in her lips. Then it was over. François rolled over on his back, and Anne pulled away to her side of the bed. He took her hand in his and gently kissed it, then held it near his lips.

Anne shut her eyes and sighed. She thought that she remembered what it felt like to make love to a man, but she discovered that memory had lied because that memory could never compare to reality and because her experience with François was unusual for her. François' kisses were unfamiliar and new for Anne. His endearments were soft and tender, delicate and caressing. There was almost no passion – only tenderness and softness from his side and acceptance from her side. The night was completely different from Anne's nights with King Henry when their bed was a battlefield of passion, love, and later hatred. With François, she felt a little uncomfortable and even slightly embarrassed, as though she was an innocent young woman who had just been married for the first time in her life. At the same time, she felt alive again, even if it was caused only by an act of physical love and even if it was for a short-lived, impermanent sensation.

Anne suspected that François hadn't given his physical desire a free reign. She knew very well that he had lusted for many women and had many mistresses, including her own sister Mary. Given what she had known about the King of France, Anne considered François to be a libertine and a womanizer, devoid of many moral restraints relative to women. She thought that he was a typical Frenchman, a skillful, gallant lover with infidelity in his blood. For whatever reason, she also thought that on their wedding night he would simply take her as a woman, thinking only about his own pleasure. Yet, she was mistaken. The image she had formed in her mind wasn't consistent with what François demonstrated to her during their wedding night. Probably, he didn't want to scare her, she mused. It was very unusual for Anne. Besides, she couldn't deny that François had been an experienced lover as despite her passiveness and impaction she found their lovemaking quite pleasant. Although she was quite passive, she also wanted François due to usual physical desire because it had been a long time since she had been with a man in the same bed. Anne felt confused.

Anne didn't notice how she fell asleep. While Anne was sleeping on her side of the bed, François watched the gentle fluttering of her eyelashes, the unguarded parting of her lips. He smiled vaguely at her. He was silently speculating about their wedding night under the cover of darkness. Anne was right that François hadn't given his emotions a free reign. He was a very passionate man by nature, and it was normal that he physically desired an attractive woman. After all, he had always been attracted to beautiful and intelligent women, and Anne was exactly what he liked. He felt fierce desire and wild passion racing through his body. He felt a longing for her he had never known before this moment, and it was strange for him. However, he was gentle because he didn't want to bewilder and discomfort her more than it had already been done to her by the situation she had been captured in.

In the meantime, François felt that Anne was repressed and tensed with him, despite her acceptance of him. He saw her hesitation and her passiveness. Oddly enough, François was close to apologizing for causing her discomfort, but he refrained from any words. He wanted to protect her as he would a little defenseless child, as there was something vulnerable in Anne, even if she had desperately wished to seem strong and imperishable in public and played in the game of polite indifference and courtesy. François enjoyed their intimacy, but he also wanted Anne to like it as much as he did. It was also a strange feeling for him that he cared so much about what another woman thought about him. He didn't know why it was so. Who was Anne for him? What was their marriage like? Was it a pure matter of politics? Or did he indeed want to clear her name and to protect her from King Henry? He was genuinely puzzled with his own feelings.

* * *

**_Night of July 3, 1537, Hampton Court Palace, County of Middlesex, England_**

King Henry and his mistress Lady Ursula Misseldon were sleeping in the King's large mahogany bed, covered in the magenta rose tapestry and with the magenta rose canopy above them. As Queen Jane Seymour was around five months along in her pregnancy and thus couldn't perform her marital duties, Henry spent many nights with his mistresses, most often with Lady Ursula. The room was dark in spite of the early hour, and no candles were lit.

While Lady Ursula's sleep was calm, Henry couldn't boast the same. He was dreaming about Anne Boleyn, and it wasn't a pleasant dream because he saw Anne sharing the bed with another man with an unclear face. Henry dreamed how that another man's mouth bore down on Anne's full rosy lips and kissed her. The King of England groaned in despair and in disgust from his dream, as though something wild within him had been unleashed. Henry saw how that man kissed Anne again and how his hands encircled her then, sensually, as he ran them over the curves and planes of her body. Henry again moaned in his sleep and unconscionably put a hand on his eyes, as though he had wanted to fence himself from the terrible vision in front of him. Then Henry heard their moans of pleasure and their labored breathing. He heard Anne's final cry, quite and simultaneously deep. His dream was so real that he was bathing in sweat and his throat was dry, his breathing erratic.

Henry couldn't take that dream any longer. A low, agonized groan tore from his throat, and then he awoke. He sat in the bed and stared ahead, in the darkness of the bedchamber. He felt anger simmering in his heart and venom dissolving in his veins as his mind reproduced his dream once again. He was white with rage, his body coiled in anger. It was a complete nightmare. He should have had that dream because Anne Boleyn had betrayed him with many other men, including her brother George Boleyn. He didn't see any other reason why he had suddenly had that repulsive dream. He felt humiliated and was outraged as he dreamed about Anne and another man in the same bed, especially when it looked as though both Anne and that man were enjoying their lovemaking. What a whore Anne Boleyn was, Henry thought. He gazed up at the canopy and silently cursed several times. He hated Anne Boleyn with all his heart, but if he had been less emotional and more honest with himself, he would have admitted that he hated her because he loved her with that murderous, destructive love.

At the same time, in the city of Venice, the newly wedded couple finished their soft, tender lovemaking, and the man kissed the woman deeply in her lips and then rolled over from her body. The woman closed her eyes and pulled away to her side of the bed. The couple was King François and his new wife Anne, Queen Anne. However, Henry didn't know about it as he didn't posses any supernatural talents in predicting and foreboding. If he had known that he had had a prophetic dream, Henry would have been much immensely anxious and extremely outraged.

Henry looked at his mistress Lady Ursula Misseldon who stirred and turned onto her back. They again spent the night together as he summoned her to his chambers in the late evening. He wanted to receive a long-awaited emotional and physical release, and thus he was wildly making love to Lady Ursula throughout all the night. Henry liked Lady Ursula very much. Tall, voluptuous, with masses of dark hair, slanting, blue-eyed, with her soft alabaster skin and her sensuous, sulky mouth, Lady Ursula attracted Henry's attention to herself as soon as she became a lady-in-waiting to Queen Jane. Unlike many other female courtiers who copied Queen Jane by wearing gowns in the conservative English style, Lady Ursula was one of very few women who still dressed in the French fashion. Ursula Misseldon's manners and style were so similar to those of Anne Boleyn, but Ursula was not Anne, that whore and that adulteress whom Henry was ready to kill for the second time at that moment.

Henry cast the heavy brocade coverlet away from him as he wanted to climb from the bed when a female sleepy voice stopped him. He sank back beside her onto the bed.

"Your Majesty, where are you going?" Lady Ursula inquired, her eyelids heavy with sleep.

Henry stared at Lady Ursula. "I couldn't sleep," he answered simply.

She tilted her head and smiled with an alluring smile. "Maybe I will help you spend time in a more pleasant way," she coaxed seductively.

Henry leaned forward, closer to his mistress. "And how can we spend time, Lady Ursula?" He laughed with a throaty laugh.

"There are many interesting things to do, Your Majesty." Lady Ursula ran a finger along his neck.

The King groaned with impatience. "You are a seductress, Lady Ursula!" He kissed her fervently. "You have inspired me." He moved his own solid arms around her and kissed her again.

Henry decided that it would be better to spend the rest of the night having frivolous, passionate intimacy with Lady Ursula than thinking about Anne Boleyn. Anne Boleyn was dead. Anne Boleyn paid for her crimes and was in hell at that time. He would no longer allow Anne to disturb him, he swore.

* * *

**_I would like to thank the readers who subscribed and/or favourited this story._**

**_I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for help._**

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I am sorry that I delayed an update. I hope next time it will be more quickly. The chapter was quite difficult to write because it was my task to define the general storyline. Now the plot is developed._

_In accordance with my research, the Palazzo Barbarigo used to be the residence of the French ambassador to Venice in the 17th century. Let's suppose that it was the same in the 16th century. Therefore, I made François and his diplomats staying there._ _The_ _Palazzo Montreuil is a fictional palace named in accordance with the title of Monsieur Jean – Count de Montreuil._

_I introduced the twist that King Henry VIII financially supported the Italian campaign of Emperor Charles V when King François was captured. This twist was necessary to make François Henry's enemy. It is the reason for François to wish for revenge on Henry._

_Of course, there was never an assassination attempt on King François' life. At least, I haven't read about it. As I mentioned in the note to the previous chapter, I would manipulate some historical events with the purpose of making this story more interesting for my readers. The assassination attempt was necessary to show how dangerous and strained the relations between King François and Emperor Charles were. In reality they wholeheartedly hated each other._

_There are many debates why King François I's son, Dauphin François, died in 1536, at the age of eighteen. Some historians think that he died from tuberculosis as he had never fully recovered his health after three years spent in damp, dank cells in Madrid. Another version is that Dauphin François was poisoned by Count Sebastiano de Montecuccoli. I think that he was indeed poisoned because the Montecuccoli noble house was known to be the family of notorious Italian poisoners who originated in the Duchy of Modena, and they were the Medici family's friends. Several representatives of the Montecuccoli family were anathematized in the 15th century on the back of the committed murders. Count Sebastiano de Montecuccoli also was Catherine de' Medici's friend, and this fact is quite suspicious, given Catherine's later activities and the Medici's general knowledge in the art of poisoning. I know a lot about the topic of the Medici's poisoning (types of poisons, effects, victims, and so on) because it is the base of my GWTW story in which people are murdered by the Medici's blue and black cooper sulphate. In this story, I am assuming that Dauphin François died from tuberculosis because it is an important reason for King François I's hatred for King Henry VIII._

_Anne and François are supposed to become political allies. They are combining their strengths on the back of revenge and mutual benefits. They are partners as they are making a deal._

_The first part of the story might be called "Revenge and repentance". I didn't want to join Anne and François in matrimony under Anne's secret identity. Firstly, I don't want to copy the ideas of other stories (there is one great story in which François and Anne marry when she is pretending to be a French noblewoman). Secondly, a secret identity for the Queen of France is very dangerous, and, to be honest, I don't think Anne would risk getting married to François under another name. It is possible, but for me a more appealing option is to show their revenge in the first place. Only later François and Anne will come to the court, and the court intrigues will unfold. The second part of the story will be devoted to the intrigues of the courtiers, including both English court and French court._

_Apart from Anne Boleyn, King François I, King Henry VIII, Mary Tudor, Jane Seymour, and her family, there are many historical heroes in this story, including Marguerite de Navarre, Emperor Charles V, Francisco de los Cobos, Imperial Ambassador Eustace Chapuys, Cardinal François de Tournon, Jacques de la Brosse, Anne de Montmorency, Diane de Poitiers, Dauphin Henri, Cardinal Jean du Bellay, Admiral Philippe de Chabot, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, and many others. Anne de Montmorency, Dauphin Henri, Diane de Poitiers, and Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, will appear in the chapter after the next one._

_The descriptions of the Renaissance male and female clothing and the fashionable Renaissance meal are historically correct. There would be many descriptions of palaces and châteaux in the future chapters, which will also be real._

_I would be grateful if you could please tell me which pairing you are enjoying more – Anne Boleyn/King François I or Anne Boleyn/King Henry VIII. I am very interested in your opinion, but I cannot believe that Anne can forgive and come back to Henry after what he did to her._

_Moreover, I simply like King François I. I have read a lot of books about him. He is a controversial character to write about. He is not an ideal King, but he is a remarkable King._

_I am currently reading the memoirs of one French nobleman, my ancestor, who was François I's courtier. Although my noble French relatives secured much influence only at King Henri IV's court and thereafter, some of them still were minor courtiers at François I's court. It is very interesting to have a look at the historical period not only from official standpoint. To some extent, for me memoirs from private collections are more valuable and appealing._

**_PS. I would like to take this opportunity and thank everybody who reviewed this story. Reviews are always appreciated, including criticism, provided that they are well grounded. Thank you very much in advance._**

_When you write a long, long chapter, it is quite probable that there will be typos and even some errors. Even a beta reader may miss some mistakes, and it is just because the chapter is very long and because there is a lot of information there. And it is normal. A reader with his scrupulous gaze often notices more than a writer and even a beta reader. If you can find typos and/or mistakes in any of my chapters, I do apologize. Please let me know about them in a private message._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Politics and romance**

_**July 20, 1537, Hampton Court Palace, County of Middlesex, England**_

Lady Mary Tudor and the Imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys strolled in the Renaissance gardens of _the_ _Hampton Court Palace_. The garden had square plats of grass with lions, dragons and numerous painted heraldic beasts on posts. The garden was created by King Henry in such form because the King of England wanted it to outshine _King François I's_ Renaissance garden at Fontainebleau. However, despite King Henry's desire, his gardens could hardly be compared with the magnificent and grand gardens of _the __Château de Fontainebleau__._

"Your Highness, what did His Majesty say about the prospects of your marriage?" Chapuys asked Lady Mary. As they were alone and were talking in Spanish, he addressed to Mary as "Your Highness".

Mary averted her gaze. She didn't know whether she would ever be married. She wanted more than anything else in her life to be married and have her own children. The most acceptable match for her would be a Spanish or Portugal Prince, she thought. However, her father didn't show any sign that he wanted his daughter to get married. "Your Excellency, my father was furious when Her Majesty Queen Jane asked him about the possibility to legitimize me and find a husband for me," she confessed.

"Is His Majesty opposed even to your marriage?"

"It appears so," Mary replied.

"I hoped that now, when the Concubine is dead, His Majesty would reinstate you in the succession," Chapuys admitted. He hated and despised Anne Boleyn, always describing her as "the Whore" and "the Concubine". He was happy that she was dead and that Mary was reconciled with her father.

"With God's help, the Harlot paid for her crimes against my father and England," Mary said with a wide smile. "At first I also hoped that my father would legitimize me after our reconciliation. However, my hopes were precocious." She trailed off, her gaze wandering across the green garden. "I signed the Oath, declaring myself an illegitimate bastard. Nothing can be changed now."

"Your Highness, we shouldn't lose hope. Maybe Queen Jane will help you," the ambassador suggested.

Mary shook her head in disagreement as they stopped near the red, violet, and blue flowerbed. "Her Majesty Queen Jane will soon have her own child, hopefully, a boy. And this child will be the heir to the throne of England." Mary wasn't sure that Jane would try again to defend her interests.

"I have deep respect for Her Majesty Queen Jane. She is a good woman," Chapuys said firmly.

Mary liked Jane, and Jane also liked Mary. Jane had always been loyal to Mary's mother Catherine. But Jane wasn't Mary's close friend because they had few things in common. Jane was too undereducated compared to Mary. But it really didn't matter for Mary because having Queen Jane Seymour was much better than having the Concubine as the Queen. "Queen Jane is a kind and decent woman," she answered with a smile.

"Your Highness, the Portuguese Infante Don Luis would be a great husband to you. He is very enthusiastic about your prospective marriage."

Don Luis was the second son of _King Manuel I of Portugal_ and his second wife _Maria of Aragon_, who was the daughter of _Queen Isabella I of Castile_ and _King Ferdinand II of Aragon_.

Mary smirked. "I know, Your Excellency. But I am not sure that my father will ever allow me to marry. If I am married, I will have my own children who could have their claim to the throne in the future. My father doesn't need it."

"His Majesty may be interested in the alliance with the Emperor, and your marriage to Don Luis can help the matter."

"We are all favoring this alliance, including Cromwell and the Seymours," Mary stated with confidence.

"In this case His Majesty might agree with this marriage. However, Your Highness, Don Luis and you are first cousins. This puts you in the prohibited fourth degree of kinship. We will need the Pope's dispensations to marry," Chapuys added sorrowfully.

Mary sighed. It seemed that her marriage to Don Luis was doomed from the beginning. It was impossible. She would have to continue living unmarried. "Given that English Church is separated from the Roman Catholic Church, we can guess how that turns out," she concluded in a low voice.

"We still should hope," Chapuys said.

"Vague hopes." Mary laughed bitterly. Then she jumped to another subject. "Your Excellency, there are rumors that my cousin Charles is behind the assassination attempts on King François' life."She didn't believe that it was possible, even if the Holy Roman Emperor and the King of France had been hated each other for years. "Is it true?"

The ambassador frowned. He didn't know for sure, but the rivalry between Charles and François became too sharp in the recent past after François had discarded his wife – _Eleanor of Austria_. "I think that His Imperial Majesty didn't hire that assassin. It is either French propaganda or a mistake. Maybe someone decided to help your cousin and tried to kill King François, but it doesn't mean that the Emperor knows about it." Chapuys could say nothing more on the matter.

Mary digested his words for a moment. "I don't think that it is my cousin." The smell of roses and other flowers overwhelmed Mary's senses as they continued their stroll in the garden. "I just don't believe."

They reached a mount overlooking the River Thames. There were so few people there today, as though the garden had been deserted, which allowed the ambassador and Mary to enjoy their privacy for quite a long time.

* * *

_**July 25, 1537, Royal Palace of Madrid, Madrid, Spain**_

The son of _Philip the Handsome, the Duke of Burgundy_, and _Joanna the Mad_, the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand, Spain's redoubtable "_Catholic Monarchs_", _Holy Roman Emperor Charles V_ was spending time in his private chambers, with the collection of maps of Europe tacked up on the walls. Most of the maps were written over with what looked like routes or directions. The territories of the Duchy of Savoy, the Duchy of Milan, and Piedmont were encircled in bold black type. There were books about war, which were lying open on top of the desk. On the other side of the desk there was a large statue of his patron saint - St. Charles. Two large Spanish crosses hung between the maps on the walls.

The Emperor was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear how _Francisco de los Cobos_ entered the room. The Emperor allowed Francisco to be named to the leadership of the Council of State after the fall of the Chancellor _Mercurino Gattinara_ in 1528. Since then, Cobos became the Emperor's constant companion and his right hand in politics.

Francisco de los Cobos bowed to the Emperor. "Your Imperial Majesty, I beg my pardon for intruding. I knocked at the door several times, but you didn't answer."

_Emperor Charles V_ turned to face Cobos. He was quite young, relatively handsome man. The features of his face were neither soft nor stern. His appearance showed the quiet authority of a born ruler, who in his maturity had become a man of high principles and deep convictions. The most remarkable feature in his appearance was a protruding lower jaw, the typical Habsburg jaw. His face was thin and pale, which was redeemed by the fine open brow and the bright speaking hazel eyes. His athletic body was covered by the austere black brocade doublet, tight and high collared, coming to a point in the front, with the full-length sleeves that were padded with dark brown cotton. His black trunk hose were knee length and padded with black cotton. Worn above the doublet in accordance with Spanish fashion, a wheel-shaped stiff collar made the Emperor's head appear detached from the rest of the body in the form used in Spain. The sword belt was passed two panes of the trunk hose in front and behind. The black velvet cap was placed on the Emperor's golden-brown short hair.

Charles was born as a male heir to the fabulous land possessions. Through his father, he succeeded to his Netherland possessions and the Duchy of Burgundy. In 1518, Charles was formally recognized as the King of Spain conjointly with his mother, firstly in Castile and then in Aragon. When he was aged nineteen, in 1519, he added the crown of the Holy Roman Empire to his glittering regalia. Strictly speaking, he purchased it, backed by the great banking dynasty, _the Fuggers,_ to outbid his two powerful contemporaries – _King Henry VIII of England_ and _King François I of France_. Even in his austere clothing, he embodied power and authority.

"You don't need to apologize, Francisco. I didn't hear because I was thinking," the Emperor replied.

"I suppose you were thinking about the Italian war," Cobos suggested.

The Emperor glanced down at the map. "Yes." His hand showed on the region of Piedmont. "King François captured Piedmont, but I would make him leave the area. It should be mine."

Cobos sighed as he saw the angry eyes of the Emperor. The hatred between King François and Emperor Charles was very deep and irredeemable. "We must be very cautious, Your Imperial Majesty."

Charles stared at his companion, his eyes expressing anger. "Do you have any new information from Venice? Who saved François? Whom he married? Who was the woman who interfered in my plans?"

"My people checked everything, but it seems that King François is keeping everything in a strict secret. Even in Venice people are guessing who the woman was."

The Emperor stood from his armchair. "That bastard François annulled the marriage to my sister Eleanor! He married this unknown woman from Venice in fewer than two months after the annulment!" Since he got the news about the annulment, he was always angry and tongue-tied. He didn't expect such boldness from François. When Eleanor arrived to Madrid, he questioned her about what happened in such a rude voice that his sister was crying right in front of her brother. When it became known that François had married in Venice, the Emperor was furious and showed his temper at his courtiers and ministers. "Unfortunately, Eleanor fell in love with François, but he didn't appreciate it. He hurt her in France when he slept with his _maîtresse en titre_ instead of his wife. He publicly ignored her." His voice took a higher octave. His gaze sharpened. "I will never forgive François because he humiliated my sister."

"I understand, Your Imperial Majesty."

"François dared to humiliate us, the Habsburgs! And he is not even the pure Valois! He is from the Valois-Orléans-Angoulême noble house!" the Emperor cried out in anger.

"Of course, Your Imperial Majesty has more noble roots," Cobos flattered.

"François became the King by a quirk of fate. At first, he wasn't expected to inherit the throne. He became the heir presumptive to the throne only because his third cousin _King Charles VIII_ died young and childless and because _King Louis XII_ didn't have surviving sons," Charles finished his long tirade. "François is just the son of _Charles d'Orléans, Count d'Angoulême_! He isn't the King's son! He is _François I the Fortunate_! He is just _parvenu_!" the Emperor bellowed in an outburst of rage. "He is _parvenu_!" he repeated.

The Holy Roman Emperor called the French King _François I the Fortunate_ by analogy with _King Philippe VI the Fortunate_ who was the first cousin of the last direct Capetian King of France – _King Charles IV_ who died without a son, which resulted in the beginning of a new dynasty – the House of Valois.

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."

Charles came closer to another armchair in the corner and began pacing the room back and forth. Then he suddenly stopped rooted and stared at the wall. "My stupid sister was unable even to sleep with François. He never consummated their marriage, and she allowed him to avoid marital duties." He turned his gaze to Cobos.

"How is Her Highness Infanta Eleanor?" Cobos asked, trying to press back the revival of the Emperor's anger.

The Emperor's lips twitched sarcastically. "As always, my dear sister Eleanor spends her time with sewing and needlework in her chambers."

"How does Her Highness feel emotionally?"

Charles emitted a heavy sigh. "Francisco, how can a woman feel after she was thrown away from France like a piece of dirt? She was the Queen of France and her marriage was declared null and void." There was a hint of bitterness in his tone. He truly loved his sister and was concerned with her fragile emotional state. "After Eleanor had learnt that François had married again and so soon, she was very depressed, although she tried not to show it to me."

"Her Highness is a strong woman."

"Yes, she is," Charles replied. "Anyway, Eleanor is heartbroken, offended, and abandoned."

"I am sorry, Your Imperial Majesty," Cobos apologized.

The Emperor smiled. "It is fine, Francisco. You are my friend. Whom can I trust if I cannot trust you?"

"Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty." Cobos managed a smile. "I hope Her Highness will get over it soon."

"I hope Her Highness will get over it soon."

"Eleanor is the Habsburg by blood. She will survive," the Emperor said, pride evident in his voice.

Francisco de los Cobos signed as he was going to report about the nasty rumors around the Emperor. " Your Imperial Majesty, there are many rumors in Europe that you tried to assassinate King François."

Charles looked at him then, his forehead furrowed. "People will think that these rumors are ridiculous. The man we hired didn't confess. Thus, the common people will assume that he was a nationalist who hated François because he invaded Italy." He again felt his anger flare. "It is a great pity that our man failed," he hissed.

"Our spies confirmed that the man hadn't confessed the whole truth," Cobos confirmed. "As he was executed, Your Imperial Majesty is in no danger."

"No more attempts on François' may be made at the present," the Emperor said. "Further attempts on François' life can be dangerous and suspicious."

Cobos nodded. "We should wait, like a hunter tracking down a pray," he jeered.

Charles shook his head. "Francisco, we won't try again. Now we must simply defeat France in the war and capture François and his wife," he said sternly. "François will pay me back. I should have killed him when my people captured him at Pavia. His new wife will also pay me back, whoever she is."

* * *

_**July 30, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

Several weeks passed since the wedding between Anne and King François. The King of France and his courtiers continued their constant meetings with _the Doge of Venice Andrea Gritti_. The new treaty between France and the Republic of Venice wasn't an easy thing to establish. Having been elected the Doge in 1523, Andrea Gritti immediately signed a special treaty with _Charles V_, ending Venice's active involvement in the Italian Wars. The Doge pursued an objective to maintain the neutrality of the Republic of Venice in the face of the continued struggle between _Charles V_ and _François I_. During the past years the Doge tried to turn the attention of both rules to the advances of the Ottoman Empire in Hungary. Gritti stopped doing it in relation to France when the Franco-Ottoman alliance between _King François I of France_ and the Turkish Sultan _Suleiman the Magnificent_ was established in 1536. The alliance was a sensational one and was referred to as "_the first non-ideological diplomatic alliance of its kind between a Christian and non-Christian Empire_". Andrea Gritti was afraid of the increasing power of the Ottoman Empire and desperately wanted to prevent _Suleiman the Magnificent_ from attacking Corfu in 1537.

Now when France was trying to secure an alliance with the Republic of Venice, the Doge demanded that the King of France asked the Ottoman Empire to not to attack Corfu, which was known as the "_Door of Venice_" during the centuries when the whole Adriatic was the Gulf of Venice remained in Venetian hands from 1401 until 1797. The negotiations between France and the Republic were tensed and complicated. France needed the support of Venice in the Italian war against the Emperor. The Republic of Venice knew about that and pressed François to insist on the neutrality of the Ottoman Empire towards Venice. François and his ministers were not sure that the treaty would be finalized by the end of the summer.

"Your Majesty, _the Doge Andrea Gritti_ is continuing to demand that France must contact Suleiman the Magnificent and make the Turkish abandon their plan of the Siege of Corfu. If we do it, we will be able to sign the treaty next day," Cardinal François de Tournon declared.

François smiled at them. "I know that the Ottomans are gathering troops for the Siege as they plan to attack the island by the end of August." He leaned forward, his gaze intense, one long finger pointing out to punctuate the air. He turned his head to face Anne. "What do you think, Anne?"

Anne raised one brow with comical skepticism. She wasn't sure whether François was testing her or simply wanting to make a laughingstock in front of the prominent courtiers. She didn't possess in-depth information about the Italian Wars and all the more about the Ottoman Empire and Venice. Anne decided to risk and to speak freely. "Your Majesty, I am not as competent in politics as Your Majesty and your courtiers are. However, if you want to know my opinion, I would send an Envoy to the Ottoman Empire and would try to negotiate with _Suleiman the Magnificent_ to stop gathering troops and ships for the Siege of Corfu."

François' gaze lit once more upon Anne. "If we send an Envoy, he will be able to investigate the minds of the Ottomans in details."

Jacques de la Brosse nodded. "We cannot make decisions unless we are completely informed.

"It must be information without prejudice," the King retorted.

Tournon stared at François. "Who can be sent with such a responsible commission to the Ottomans?" His gaze shifted from the King to Jacques de la Brosse. "Perhaps, it can be you, Jacques."

François shook his head in disagreement. "No, Monsieur de la Brosse will stay with me and my wife here, in Venice." His tone left no room for objection. "What do you think about _Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard_ and _Jean de La Forêt_? They are currently among our courtiers here."

"_Jean de La Forêt_ already met with the Ottomans when he established an alliance with them," Jacques de la Brosse managed to croak. He didn't want to go to the Ottoman Empire.

"Yes," François confirmed instantly.

"_Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard_ and _Jean de La Forêt_ are the most ideal Envoys. They will be great commissioners," Tournon spoke out.

"I agree." François propped an elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned a little forward. He often did that when he was doing hard. "We must decide how we will persuade the Ottomans not to fight against the Republic of Venice." He looked around. "Do you have any thoughts?"

Cardinal de Tournon's baritone resonated in the stuffy hot air. "Maybe we will ask them to mobilize their ships and troops and to join them with the French forces in _Provence_. It is very likely that the Emperor will invade in _Provence_ after the New Year. Our spies say that the Emperor is currently equipping his army from the teeth to their heads to fight against us in the new battles."

"The battle with the Emperor will happen after the New Year, not earlier," François noted. It was so because both parties needed time to train and equip their armies before the decisive battle.

Jacques de la Brosse chuckled. "If the Ottomans begin the Siege of Corfu and we are intending to prevent them from it, we must find the application for their fleet."

"The Franco-Turkish fleet has been stationed in _Marseille_ by the end of 1536, threatening Genoa, but so far no military actions took place," Tournon added.

"We might ask the Ottomans to give us more fleet to station it in Marseilles. This is a way out of the situation," François spoke firmly. "In this case Venice will give us more troops to defeat _Charles V_." Then he smirked. "But, of course, there are many methods to win the war with the Emperor, even without the Venetians." He stared at Anne and smiled. "Any thoughts on the matter, Anne?"

Anne was truly interested in the ongoing discussion. She also appreciated that François was interested in her opinion. Henry had never been so willing to talk to her on political themes. François seemed to be the opposite of her former husband in that aspect. "Your Majesty, I think that we should simply ask the Ottoman Empire to give France more ships in the war against the Emperor. Then you can decide how to stop the Turkish from further attempts to attack Corfu, but it will be necessary only in the future," Anne said.

The King smiled. "I think now we indeed must act so," he agreed.

With an elegant theatrical movement, Anne nonchalantly flicked dust from her right sleeve. "As for other methods to fight with the Emperor, I agree with you, Your Majesty, that there are many of them. Your Majesty, you surely remember the Battle of Pavia." She paused and saw that François frowned at her. "The Emperor blocked the road near Pavia in order to weaken the French army by the shortage of food, which also demoralized French troops. Why can't you use the analogical strategy?"

A smile was blossoming on François' face. Cardinal de Tournon and Jacques de la Brosse exchanged the astonished glances.

"Pray continue, Madame," the King of France emboldened his wife.

"Maybe it will sound a little radical, but anyway I will tell you what I think." Anne's gaze flickered away, and she started speaking. "Your Majesty, you can weaken the Spanish army by using alternative methods." She raised her chin. "For example, you can leave over-ripe fruit on the trees in an attempt to give the Spanish troops dysentery. It will be an analogy to what the Emperor did in the past with you. And it will be even less than he deserves after the captivity of Your Majesty and your sons and after several assassination attempts on Your Majesty's life." She cast an apologetic glance at the King. "Your Majesty, I am sorry that I reminded you about those sad events."

The King smiled at her honesty and her logic. Anne was a great, experienced courtier. She had just demonstrated that. She made it clear that she didn't understand politics any more than his courtiers. Yet, she made several interesting, valuable comments about the war with the Emperor. "Anne, I think that it is a very remarkable recommendation. My Marshal Anne de Montmorency would never appreciate this advice because he always tries to push me to the peace with the Emperor. However, I don't want the piece with this dishonest man." His smile broadened. "I treasure your opinion."

Anne smiled at him. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Cardinal de Tournon smiled at Anne. "Your Majesty, this is a clever tactic." He was fascinated by Anne because she offered a good method to inflict a defeat on the Emperor with a small number of victims among the French soldiers. He thought that such a hypocritical man as the Emperor deserved that after what he had done to the King of France at Pavia.

Jacques de la Brosse stared at Anne. "I agree that we must use every possible method to fight with the Emperor's cunningness."

François nodded. "The Emperor is the most cunning man I have ever met."

Anne smiled. "And the Emperor thinks so about himself," she said confidently. "The sure way to be cheated is to think oneself to be more cunning than others. The same is fair for the Emperor."

François smiled deferentially. "It is very true."

Brosse and Tournon also smiled simultaneously.

Brosse's eyes flew to the King of France. "Your Majesty, I would send _Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard_ and _Jean de La Forêt_ going to the Ottoman Empire tomorrow."

"Thank you, Monsieur de la Brosse," François said softly. "Our Envoys must declare to _Suleiman the Magnificent_ that we are imploring him to give us more ships for the upcoming Siege of Genoa or for the defense of Provence from the sea against the Emperor. They must tell the Sultan that _King François I of France_ asks him from the bottom of his heart at least to postpone the Siege of Corfu because now we need the Republic of Venice to defeat the Emperor."

Soon _Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard_ and _Jean de La Forêt_ left the city of Venice and headed to Constantinople to meet with _the Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent_.

* * *

_**August 9, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

The negotiations between France and the Republic of Venice were temporary put on hold until any news from the Ottoman Empire. As a result, François and Anne were spending some time together. François lived at _the Palazzo Montreuil_. The official opinion was that he was just living at the house of his father's old friend as nobody knew about the secret wedding.

At the same time, some rumors began to spread in Italy that King François had gotten married for the third time after he had received an annulment of his marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_. Nobody knew whom he had married. The public announcement was that the King had chosen as his bride _le Sauveur du Roi-Chevalier_ or _the Savior of the Knight-King_, a noblewoman who saved him from death in _the Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco _at the beginning of June.

While a Franco-Venetian alliance was temporary put on hold, the King of France was again planning new alliances. One of them was an alliance with Scotland. François needed to further strengthen France's old diplomatic and political connections with Scotland, especially given the fact that Scotland was eager to deepen friendly relations with France. Solid relations between France and Scotland allowed François to have a certain control over England as its northern border was with Scotland.

François stared at Anne and then at Cardinal de Tournon. Each of them sat in large embroidered chairs near the window. "We need to establish an alliance with Scotland," he said in a deep voice.

At the thoughts of Scotland, the feeling in his heart was as black as death. He remembered the death of his daughter. He could feel the pain and the helplessness. By her sixteenth birthday, his favorite child Princess Madeleine had contracted tuberculosis. When in 1536 _King James V _asked him for Madeleine's hand in marriage, François initially refused the match citing his daughter's illness and the harsh climate of Scotland. François feared that life in Scotland would prove fatal to his daughter's already failing health. But Madeleine and James fell in love, and despite his warnings and his nagging fears, François reluctantly agreed. As the newly wedded couple arrived in Scotland, Madeleine was gravely ill. Soon she died in her husband's arms in Edinburgh.

Cardinal François de Tournon nodded. "Your Majesty, it is a brilliant idea."

"An alliance through a marriage?" Anne questioned.

François smiled at her. "Yes, Anne."

"France doesn't have a Princess of the suitable age," Tournon noted.

François was silent for a moment as his mind again reproduced Madeleine's image. Then he finally spoke. "We can offer not a Princess, but a daughter of a high-ranked nobleman."

"Whom does Your Majesty have in mind?" Tournon asked.

"_Mary de Guise, Duchess de Longueville_. She recently widowed," François answered.

Cardinal de Tournon wasn't sure that it was the best candidature the King of France could propose. "The Guises are a powerful and wealthy noble house. However, will it be enough for the King of Scotland?"

François tipped his head to the side. "_King James V _wishes to have a wife as soon as possible. He is also interested in a solid alliance with France." His eyes flew to Anne. "Anne?"

Anne got accustomed that François often asked about her opinion on a political issue right in front of his entrusted courtiers. "I think that it is more the question of a dowry. If a dowry as large as if Madame Mary were a princess, King James would agree to the match with great delight."

François smiled. He valued her opinion as she had a shrewd mind. "As Scotland is quite poor country, the Scottish King will want to have much money from France."

A smile passed across the Cardinal's face, his white beard glistening like snowflakes in the afternoon autumn sun. "Your Majesty, then I will convey his wishes to Madame Mary's father. I am sure that the Duke de Guise won't have any objections, thinking that it is a real luck for his daughter to become the Queen of Scotland."

"Thank you, Your Eminence," the King said to Tournon, but looking at Anne. "The marriage contract should be finalized by January-February 1538," he declared.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Tournon replied.

Anne stared at François. "Your Majesty, what other alliances are you planning to establish in Italy"

"We have an alliance with the Duchy of Milan and with the Papal States. If we add an alliance with the Republic of Venice, it will more than enough for now," the King replied.

"What about the Republic of Genoa?" she inquired.

François smiled ironically. "Genoa would be the first place in Italy I would consider attacking if I wanted to capture the whole Italy. They will never ally with us." He cleared his throat. "However, I am interested only in the Duchy of Savoy and the Duchy of Milan in the first place. I don't want other Italian lands," he commented.

Anne arched her brows. "What is so special about Genoa?"

"When the great _Admiral_ _Andrea Doria_ of the powerful Genoese Doria family allied with _Emperor Charles V_ to win against France and restore Genoa's independence in 1528, Charles started taking gigantic loans from the Genoese bankers who are currently financing many of the Emperor's foreign endeavors. The Siege of Genoa would undoubtedly undermine the financial power of the Holy Roman Emperor," Cardinal de Tournon explained.

Anne blinked. She didn't have the greatest knowledge in Italian politics, but she was going to correct these mistakes. "Then if the Emperor is scheming against France and something goes wrong in the war, the Ottoman Empire as the ally of France will begin the Siege of Genoa," she inferred.

François smiled at her astuteness. "Exactly."

"What about the Republic of Florence?" Anne asked curiously. "Catherine de' Medici, the Dauphine of France, is the daughter of _Lorenzo de' Medici, Duke of Urbino_, the former ruler of Florence. The Medici family seems to enjoy a solid position in Florence."

"The Medici marriage was supposed to bring to France a very strategic and much needed alliance with Italy. In addition, a huge dowry was offered, including Pisa and Livorno. However, _Pope Clement VII_ died in 1534, and Catherine's dowry wasn't paid to France," the King of France enlightened. "Catherine came to me almost naked."

"The marriage to Catherine de' Medici brought nothing to France," Tournon said sorrowfully.

"Nothing, except for headache," François jeered.

Anne and Cardinal de Tournon smiled at the King's joke.

"I still don't know what to do with Henri's marriage to Catherine," the King speculated. He looked at Tournon. "Many people advise me to repudiate Catherine because there are too many problems in this matrimony." He hinted that Tournon was one of the supporters of Henri's divorce from Catherine.

Anne knew why François was so anxious. His son Henri, the Dauphin of France, wasn't pleased with his wife and, most importantly, Catherine failed to produce a male heir since Dauphin Henri married her in 1533. It was quite a dilemma for François because the Dauphin must have had a fertile wife, capable of bearing sons. Anne even felt a sort of sympathy to Catherine de' Medici who surely was under great pressure from the Valois family and the whole French court. Anne felt the same pressure when she was the Queen of England.

"It is how Your Majesty wishes," Tournon replied cautiously.

François shrugged. "Your Eminence, so far I don't know what to do." He cast a warm glance at Anne. "As you see, Anne, the Valois relations with the Medici are quite strained at the moment. Besides, the Medici are very obliged to the Emperor who helped them restore their power in Florence after they had once again been deposed by the anti-Medici faction in 1527, upon learning of the Papal States' defeat during _the War of the League of Cognac_. As a result, an alliance with Florence is almost unbelievable at this stage."

Anne smiled. "Since Your Majesty is interested mainly in the Duchy of Savoy and the Duchy of Milan, I assume that it is enough for France to have the Papal States, the Republic of Venice, and the Ottoman Empire as allies, given that France has the Duchy of Milan, and the Duchy of Savoy as the supporters of France in the war with the Emperor. France can feel more or less safe on a military and diplomatic arena in the Northern Italy," she concluded.

François smiled. "You are right, Anne."

As Anne's blue eyes locked with François' amber eyes, Anne felt that the King's gaze was kind and warm. She didn't break her gaze from his. She smiled in response and took in a deep breath. His dark eyes glistened at the sight of her smile, and he suddenly glanced away.

* * *

_**August 11, 1537, Stafford House, Newcastle-under-Lyme, County of Staffordshire, England**_

Lady Mary Boleyn Stafford and her husband William Stafford settled in Newcastle-under-Lyme in the County of Staffordshire, in the West Midlands region of England. When Mary decided to get married to William in 1534, she hadn't cared what others would think about her secret matrimony. She loved William and thus became his wife. As a result, Anne and her father Thomas Boleyn had banished her from the court after she married a man so far beneath her station. Her father disinherited her and said that she wasn't the part of the Boleyn family anymore. Her father told Mary that she had brought only disappointment and shame to her family. She was prohibited to have any communication with Anne, George, and even with her mother Elizabeth who was quietly living in the countryside. Mary was distressed and felt betrayed, but she silently obeyed and disappeared from London. A woman of strong character, kind heart, and decided principles, she wasn't going to beg Anne and her relatives to give her money and a piece of bread even though she had literally been thrown into the street.

Many things happened in Mary Boleyn's life, and they substantially changed Mary's character in the past years. Mary was considered by her parents a child of less intellectual ability than the rest of her family. She could even say that she was a kind of neglected from infancy by her parents who loved Anne and George more than they did Mary. Mary knew that she didn't have Anne's sharp, lofty, and keen intellect and possessed much less determination, not being ambitious by nature. While Anne was the one who climbed high, earned the plaudits from Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk, and finally lost everything, Mary didn't tempt fate too far and never wished to be raised to the queenship. Yet, she had Anne's great vitality and some of her sister's opportunistic nature that later prompted her to be involved in some adventures at the French court and afterwards at the English court.

It was true that Mary Boleyn used to be a woman of rather loose morals in her early youth. Indeed, she slept with King François and with King Henry, and she never forgot about her notorious past. Mary arrived to the French court with Princess Mary Tudor who became the wife of _King Louis XII _and at whose wedding Mary Boleyn was in attendance in England in proxy. Thomas Boleyn arranged that Mary had accompanied Princess Mary Tudor in France not aiming at the promotion of the Boleyns in England, but rather giving Mary a good opportunity of self-advancement in the Princess' entourage, probably hoping that she would secure a good marriage for herself. Sometime later, Mary Boleyn willingly succumbed to the temptations of the French court. Before _King_ _Louis XII's_ death, when François was known as Dauphin François and Duke de Valois since 1499, François' eye alighted on Mary, young, easygoing, and beautiful. He began to pursue her on a regular basis, but Mary resisted him for a while. Meanwhile, Mary couldn't deny that she was utterly charmed by the notoriously wanton, highly artistic, and alluringly handsome young heir to the throne of France who wrote to her many love poems and sent to her manifold expensive gifts, mainly exquisite jewelry and expensive French gowns. Then the old King died, and François ascended the throne of France, which stimulated him to embark on many new amorous escapades than he had ever had before his kingship. François continued pursuing Mary, and she was gradually becoming more and more attracted to him. The aura of the magnificent and powerful Renaissance monarch contributed to her emotional attachment to the French King as she felt honored that the King had wanted her. She knew that he had many mistresses at the court, but the passion he inflamed in Mary overweighed her fears and hesitation. Mary was immune to the King's passion and couldn't curb her own passion for him. Consequently, Mary didn't reject the King of France anymore and accepted his offer to become his mistress he made to her in 1516. She was so enamored with François that she even didn't think of the traditional necessity to preserve her maidenhead for her future husband, allowing the King to take her innocence during one dark night at _the Château de Blois_. She slept with him for experiment and for pleasure. She definitely had a choice and could reject King François' advances because nobody pushed her to become the King's inamorata, but she wanted him and surrendered to her own untamed desire. Only later her father Thomas Boleyn hinted that her liaison with King François had brought additional praises and good recommendations for Thomas as the English ambassador to France.

Seduced by the King of France and put under his glittering spell, Mary fell in love with François. However, soon Mary's brief affair with François was over because the King was tired of Mary and thus discarded her, starting to pursue _Marie de Macy, Dame de Montchenu,_ and at the same time renewing his relationship with two previously discarded mistresses. Mary was hurting under her skin after she had been set aside in such a negligent manner. The only consolation for her was that the King of France hadn't impregnated her, like it was the case with several other mistresses at the court. Striving to forget François, Mary had also been involved in several other affairs in France before she was dismissed from Queen Claude's service in 1519 and was instructed by her father to come back to England. Later, when she attended _the Field of Cloth of Gold_ in 1520, Mary again spent one night with François, again seduced by his resplendent handsomeness and charmed by his great gallantry. However, soon she had to face the result because it was on that Anglo-French summit when King François told King Henry that he was often riding Mary in the nights. At that moment Mary hated François, but over the years she forgot about that and her anger evaporated.

_The Field of Cloth of Gold_ was a turning point for Mary's notorious career as a royal courtesan because King Henry noticed Mary's lovely face and memorized it after King François told him about their romance. Her amourette with King Henry had different roots. It was a glorious time for Henry as he was at the prime of his youth and handsomeness, while Queen Catherine was an aging and increasingly pious wife who alone wasn't able to satisfy the sexual appetite of the virile King who was just entering his thirties. Henry was ripe for a new affair with a pretty young woman, and he remembered about Mary, knowing that she was François' lover in France. Henry was quickly attracted to Mary because, like his former mistress Elizabeth Blount, Mary seemed to be in love with love, in love with men, and in love with passion after the time she had spent in France. Her French conduct, coquetry, style, and manners highlighted her as a potential new mistress for the King of England. Besides, she was an accomplished professional dancer and eagerly participated in the pleasures offered by the court.

Mary Boleyn was very attracted to King Henry, but she also had little choice in becoming his mistress because she was suggested by her father to set herself at Henry's path and to be frivolous enough with the King to encourage his advances in order to bring wealth and elevate the social standing of the Boleyn family. Although Mary partly regretted having her short amourette with François at that time and didn't want to bring a track of notoriety with herself at the English court, she quickly gave in to her passions, being enamored with the handsome, athletic, and powerful King. Henry also expected Mary to submit to his wishes without any qualm, and he wasn't mistaken. After insignificant amount of courtly love, Henry summoned Mary to his suite and, smiling at her, straightforwardly asked her what she had learnt in France in the art of love and intimacy. During their first night, Mary showed the King of England the French ways of sensitive and passionate lovemaking, half immoral and immensely pleasant; it couldn't have been otherwise because Mary had a brilliant teacher – King François.

The practical result of Mary's intimate relations with Henry was that Thomas Boleyn's career was going from good strength to great strength by the early 1520s, which was attributable to the King's interest in Mary. For example, Thomas was granted lucrative stewardships in Kent, Norfolk, Nottinghamshire, Essex, and several other counties. He was made a Knight of the Garter in 1523 and was appointed Vice Chamberlain of the Household, being eventually promoted to Chamberlain. In July 1524, King Henry made a generous gift to George Boleyn – the luxurious manor of Grimston in Norfolk, making George another recipient of the benefits from Mary's affair with the King. At the same time, it was fair to say that Thomas Boleyn had succeeded at the court largely thanks to his own merits and abilities, especially his widely admired diplomatic and linguistic skills. Mary's father had been in the King's favor of the King for many years, long before Mary became Henry's mistress. Yet, he still wanted Mary to help him advance himself at the court, satisfying his desire for more prestige and wealth.

While her family greatly benefited from her affair with Henry, Mary's reputation in England was gravely damaged. It was true that Henry's amourette with her was conducted rather discreetly, and the courtiers even didn't know when it started and when it ended. But they knew that Mary had slept with the King of England, and it was enough to call her the Great Whore or the Great Prostitute. King François was rumored to have laughed that Mary had managed to slide under the bedcover of the English King, his eternal rival and competitor. It was the reason why François had called Mary "_a great whore, infamous above all_", but she didn't take it close to her heart and quickly forgot about the insult. It was remarkable that Mary's relations with Henry also created an impediment to his marriage to Anne, but it was disregarded and the marriage finally took place, not later to become the reason to declare Anne's matrimony null and void on the grounds of affinity.

Mary indulged herself to have love affair with King François for the sake of pleasure and due to deep passion for him, while she was physically attracted to King Henry and was pushed to his bed by her own father. Her notoriety stemmed from her life at the sybaritic and dissolute French court and from the vaulting ambitions of her family. She knew that she had committed many doubtful and wrong things in her life, but she didn't think that she would have altered her life if she had been able to do that. If she had changed her life path, she would have never met with William Stafford, never learning the taste of true happiness and love. After her disinheritance and banishment from the English court, Mary knew that she would spend the remainder of her life in peaceful obscurity, but it wasn't the most important fact for her. She found her soulmate and her kindred spirit when she married William Stafford, and she never repented her decision. She was very happy with her husband. Mary and William weren't wealthy, but they had enough money to cover day-to-day expenses and secure food and clothes for them. Money wasn't the most important thing for her. Mary eventually learned what really mattered in life, and it was not money and power for her. While Anne lived through much unhappiness in her marriage to King Henry and in the end fell down from her pedestal, Mary found true love and stability in her personal life. In contrast to her siblings who finished their lives with chasmal tragedy, she passed though the stage of wrongdoings and had a happy ending with William Stafford.

During the last years, Mary often remembered her younger sister Anne, usually fighting back her tears. When the trouble came and Anne was arrested, Mary did everything possible to save Anne. As she learnt that Anne was pregnant, she sighed with relief, hoping that a miracle would happen and King Henry would take Anne back as a wife and the Queen of England. However, she quickly realized that she was mistaken. She tried to save Anne in a legal way, but failed. Finally, Mary requested the King to become the guardian of Anne's little child. She was shocked when her father refused to take Anne's child. Since then, she hated and despised her father with all her heart. Firmly believing that Anne had been executed on the fabricated charges, Mary was intending to impart to Arthur a sympathetic view of his mother's conduct and make him believe in Anne's innocence once he grew up enough to understand the true nature of the deals.

As Mary and William were expecting the baby Arthur to arrive in their household, Mary was worried that they wouldn't have enough money to live on. She and William had two children together - Anne and Edward. Their daughter was named in the honor of Anne Boleyn. Having three small children in the same household was quite expensive for them. The problem was solved when Lady Eleanor Hampton, who was Anne's lady during her imprisonment and Henry Percy's co-partner in their plan to save Anne, arrived with the child. Lady Eleanor handed several pockets of golden coins in order to provide Anne's little son with money. Mary asked who gave the money, but Lady Eleanor hadn't answered before she left. Mary and William were astonished, but took the money because they really needed it.

"Soon it will be a year since Anne was executed. And more than a year has passed since George's death," Mary said sorrowfully. She looked down at the child in her hands – Anne's son Arthur.

Arthur was growing quickly. Despite Anne's difficult pregnancy and his birth at the Tower of London, the child was a healthy boy. At his nine months, Arthur had already learnt to sit, roll over, and crawl. He had recently started trying to pull himself up to a stand while holding onto furniture or Mary. Sometimes he could stand without support and was trying to stoop and squat. He was a clever child as his blue eyes were always wandering around, analyzing his surroundings. Arthur easily recognized Mary and William, usually smiling at them as one of them took him in their hands.

"Mary, I don't want you to torment yourself. They are gone, and nothing can be changed. If Anne or George saw the expression of your face now, they would be disappointed," William spoke in a soft voice. He always tried to appease Mary as she remembered her deceased siblings.

Indeed, Mary's face expressed regret and pain, her eyes didn't sparkle. As she looked at Arthur who was playing with the collar of her dress, she smiled. "I know that they would have been displeased with me," she said. She bounced the toddler and he giggled in response. "God, how similar to King Henry Arthur is!" she exclaimed. "Just look, William. Arthur has Anne's eyes and her hair, but in other things he is the King's small copy, a fine copy."

William sighed heavily. "I think the King doesn't care for him, believing that he is not his son."

Mary laughed bitterly. "As soon as King Henry meets Arthur, he will have no doubt who his father is."

"I doubt that it will happen soon, given that Queen Jane is pregnant," William responded.

Mary winced as Arthur drew his small hand through her loosen hair. "If Queen Jane delivers a girl or a stillborn child, the King may want to meet Arthur."

"The King is sure that your sister betrayed him. He won't even remember about Arthur."

Mary shrugged. "Who knows, William."

"At least now your sister's son is with us," William added with a hint of irony. "Doesn't your father still want to see his grandchild by Anne?"

Mary nodded. "My father doesn't care for Arthur and for me. However, you know that he sent us some money a couple of months ago."

"Your father is a contradictory man." William tried to be as cautious as he could in talking about Thomas Boleyn. He despised him as a father and as a man, but he was Mary's father.

Mary didn't want to talk about her father. Then she laughed. "I wonder what King Henry would say if he knew the child's name. I think Anne named her son in the honor of the King's deceased brother Arthur, the Prince of Wales." A malicious grin splashed across her face. "My sister definitely knew that the name she had chosen would displease the King. I am not sure that the King would have approved of the name. What an irony of fate!"

William chuckled. "It would be entertaining to see the King of England's reaction."

* * *

_**August 14, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

Count Jean de Montreuil was delighted that Anne and François had allied themselves in the form of matrimony. He saw that they were not in love with each other, but they were anyway a stunning couple. It was also evident that François respected and adored Anne, while she just accepted him. Jean knew that Anne was afraid of trusting the King of France, and she couldn't be blamed for that after what she had to endure in England because of her own mistakes and because of King Henry's cruel madness to have a male heir. The old man witnessed how François looked at Anne – with a gaze of complete adoration because he was captivated by her. François was clearly attracted to Anne not only as a political instrument in his revenge on Henry Tudor and in his desire to influence the politics of England through Anne's children. He saw that there was no love between them, but there were respect and common interests between them. Maybe they could even become more than just simple friends over time. Jean thought that it was a miracle that François was saved by Anne Boleyn. That salvation had to be a good omen that Anne had bright future ahead.

"Anne, I think that you will find a marriage to His Majesty very interesting," Monsieur Jean noted.

Anne forced a smile. "And useful," she stated.

Jean shook his head, ironic smile curving his lips. "This marriage can be more than just a convenient marriage. I hope for more positive things in your matrimony."

Anne stared stonily at him. "It is a marriage of mutual benefit and nothing more," she parried.

Jean laughed at her. "Anne, King François is very different from King Henry. Take it into account."

Anne grinned. She was skeptical about it. "Perhaps," she said vaguely. Then she laughed. "I am like _Eleanor of Aquitaine_ who married at first to the French King and then to the English King."

"Duchess of Aquitaine was a great woman. But you, Anne, will never be like her in one aspect - you won't excite rebellion against your husband."

Anne would never do rebel against any King after she managed to avoid having her head chopped off. She would never do it even if it was the only way out to put her son Arthur on the throne of England. "I am not out of my mind to rebel against either the King of England or the King of France," she replied.

"Anne, I am sure that you cannot be displeased with your marriage to His Majesty King François." Jean smiled at her. "So far it was fine?" he questioned curiously.

Anne emitted a sigh. "Yes, it is fine."

"I will be very straightforward," Jean said firmly. "If you haven't seen it yet, then you will soon understand that King François' personality is the opposite to the violent and rude personality of King Henry." Jean stroked his silver beard. "Whether you are able or not to use it as an unselfish advantage on behalf of both of you is up to you."

She blinked in confusion. "An unselfish advantage?"

"I mean an advantage for both of you, which is far from being purely political," Jean clarified.

Monsieur Jean's naked honesty surprised Anne. She sighed and averted her gaze. The silence followed.

* * *

_**August 15, 1537, Palais du Louvre, Paris, France**_

Dauphin Henri and his mistress _Diane de Poitiers_ were sitting in Diane's chambers. They were spending the evening playing cards. Henri was the second son of _King François I of France_ and became the Dauphin of France upon the death of his elder brother _Dauphin François III, Duke of Brittany_, in 1536.

Dauphin Henri was a young handsome man with wide-spaced, ink black eyes. He didn't have the Valois long patrician nose. His short hair in color matched his eyes and fell in sensual curls around his face. His face was the face of a naive young man, but beneath it was the powerful and well-defined body of a man. His features were neither soft nor stern. In contrast to King François and his elder deceased brother Dauphin François, who looked like prominent patricians and had the stately bearing of a King of France, and used it to their own advantage, François' second son Henri definitely lacked his father's regal air around him. Yet, Henri looked as a very serious and concentrated man. Time in the Spanish prison with his elder brother appeared to have changed his spirit, but not broken it. Henri was a young man just barely out of boyhood, but he wasn't a carefree person and, if he saw fitted him, seemed to resist everyone and everything just for the sheer pleasure of it.

Henri usually wore the clothes that weren't as lavishly embroiled with jewelry and with other ornamentation as his father and other French liked. His tastes were also affected by the austere Spanish fashion. Today, Henri was dressed in the toque, the trunk hose and the doublet of brown velvet with black slashing. His sleeves were covered with diamonds and topazes. No other embellishments were made on his costume.

Dauphin Henri pushed the cards aside and looked at Diane. "As always, you look very beautiful today, _chérie_," he said.

Diane smiled with a Cheshire-cat smile. "Thank you, Henri." She looked into her cards, thinking that at this time she was doomed to lose. "I wonder when you will be bored with the color of my gowns."

Indeed, Diane de Poitiers was the great beauty at the French court. Her facial features boasted almost classical beauty. She had full, rosy lips and high cheekbones. Her eyes were brilliantly blue, her hair – glossy, long, and blonde. Her nose was a little long and her eyes were deeply set, which didn't spoil her general perfect image. Her skin was alabaster and clear. Diane had a serene elegance and a natural charm, which had always caused people to notice her and which had always attracted men to her. Many men were lusting after her as her image aroused desire and passion in male hearts. She had broken many hearts in her life.

During sixteen years, Diane de Poitiers was married to _Louis de Brézé, seigneur d'Anet and Count de Maulevrier_, an old man who was thirty nine years her older. She had two daughters with him. After her husband's death in 1531, she kept her late husband's emoluments and assumed the title of _the Grand Sénéchale de Normandie_.

As usual, today Diane was dressed in the black and white silky gown with the medium-high neckline and the medium-length train. It was a gown without excessive ornamentation. After her husband's death, Diane adopted the habit of wearing the colors of black and white, which was her personal hallmark at the French court. The color of her gown against her alabaster skin was stark and dramatic.

"Madame, with every color of the rainbow exhibited on the banquets and balls at the court, these other women look like peacocks while you are like a beautiful black swan."

She smiled at him, showing her perfectly straight white teeth. "Don't flatter me, Henri."

"It is true, not flattery," he said, finally shifting his eyes to her.

Dauphin Henri made Diane de Poitiers his mistress because she was the first woman who showed tenderness to him. His mother, Queen Claude of France, was Henri's last contact with any sort of affection. Since her death, few people had treated him with the necessary modicum of tenderness. King François had never been close to Henri. Since then he had closed himself off to it. As Diane de Poitiers emerged in his life, she was all grace and kindness what the world should be. Diane masterfully displayed her vulnerability, and it drew Henri to her. Diane was not like any of the women for Henri. She did not flirt and didn't tease. She was very beautiful, and her charm and beauty bewitched young Henri at a first glance. Over time that passion didn't subside. Like many other French women, she was educated according to the principles of Renaissance humanism and was proficient at music, hunting, manners, languages, the art of conversation, and dancing. Her keen interest in financial matters and legal shrewdness were also undeniable. She was a cold, calculating and cunning woman, even if she didn't show it to her royal lover.

Diane was twenty years older than Dauphin Henri. When Henri was returned to France from his captivity in Madrid at the age of ten, Diane was ordered by King François to act as a mentor to Henri and teach him courtly manners and more. Over time passing, Henri was more and more attracted to the beautiful Diane, and in 1534 they became lovers. The age difference wasn't an obstacle for love between Henri and Diane. Life was kind to Diane. She didn't look anywhere near her actual age. Her body was still firm and strong and she needed no cosmetics with which to mask herself. Diane ascribed the secrets of her well-kept beauty to the daily cold baths.

The court had accepted her as Henri's favorite, but anyway they didn't look so favorably on Henri's paramour as their looked on King François' official mistress, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes. At the court, Diane was always competing with the beautiful and ambitious Duchess d'Étampes.

"Great!" the Dauphin cried out with a good-natured smile. "_M'amie_, I am winning!" He opened his cards and put them in the middle of the table.

"Today fate is on your side," she purred.

A furrow marred his forehead. "Today I received a letter from my father," Henri declared with a tentative expression. "He indeed married that woman in Venice."

Diane arched an eyebrow. "And who is that woman?"

"I don't know her name, but my father called her an incredible woman in his letter."

"Well, Henri, it is interesting." Diane paused, selecting her words carefully. She knew Henri was worried because of that marriage. Honestly, she also was not pleased with the news as she didn't want to make her life more complicated than she had at the court. "There were so many rumors about this wedding. The people call the new Queen of France the Savior of the King."

"Because she saved my father's life in Venice," the Dauphin confirmed.

"There is one positive aspect in your father's marriage," Diane stated, her lips pressed into one long, thin line. "Probably, Duchess d'Étampes will be set aside now."

"I would agree with that." Henri laughed loudly and joyously, with his head back and his eyes sparkling with delight. "I have always hated that cold icy Queen Anne de Pisseleu. Madame d'Étampes is far more arrogant than she is beautiful. She holds herself as if she is my father's wife. Maybe the new Queen will put her on her place."

"I regret what I must tell you, but I beseech you to be brave." She paused, and the Dauphine looked at her in alarm. Her lips were pressed into one long, thin line. She went on. "As your father married that woman so quickly, there must be something beneath the true reasons of that marriage. And this new Queen can be even worse than Duchess d'Étampes. We don't know how she will treat the royal children." She was accurate in her words, but she wanted Henri to be at the alert.

The Dauphin smiled, a childlike innocence borne out on his handsome face. "She will be just the Queen and the wife."

"Ha!" she thundered. "I wouldn't be so sure. The new Queen of France could have much political influence. Recall, Henri, your father was listening to your mother's opinion on the political matters."

Henri hung his head, stung again by her remark. After a moment, he lunged toward her across the card table and kissed her in her lips. Then he settled back in his chair. "Diane, please don't worry. The new Queen will treat you with all the respect and grace."

Oh, Henri, you are just a boy, Diane thought. He didn't realize that many things can change at the French court. Diane didn't want to ease Henri's concerns. On the contrary, her intuition told her that the new Queen of France would be her powerful rival at the court. "I am afraid she might be using your father. Their marriage is so strange."

Henri's black eyes turned pensive. "I just hope that the new Queen of France is a Catholic, like my mother. I don't like the policy of religious tolerance my father is following."

"You know why your father is so tolerant to heretics," Diane answered with a smile.

The Dauphin laughed. "Because he aims to weaken the Holy Roman Empire," he stated.

"Yes." Diane nodded. "And when you are the King of France, you most likely will have to do the same."

Henri narrowed his eyes at her. "Time will show." He was a devout Catholic and believed that it was his duty to rid France of the threat posed by the Reformation that would divide not only the Church, but the country. He had always had collisions with his father as King François favored religious tolerance.

Diane signed. She agreed with Henri's views on the Reformation, but she knew that King François didn't like Henri's views on the matter. "Henri, be careful how you speak to King François about this matter. You don't need any clashes with him."

"My father and I have opposite views on the policy of religious tolerance," the Dauphin said gloomily.

"At this point you must accept it."

"I know, Diane." He frowned as his thoughts returned to his father and the war with the Emperor. "Can you please ask Anne de Montmorency what is currently going on in Piedmont?"

"I will, although I am not so sure that he knows. The King is still in Venice."

"Then we must wait for the clarification, _m'amie_," the Dauphin answered.

Somebody knocked at the door. As Henri barked to come inside, the door opened. A young handsome man paused at the doorway. He was a fifteen-year-old _Charles de Valois, Duke d'Orléans_. He had almond-shaped, bright amber eyes, the Valois quite a long nose, and high cheekbones. His height was much taller than average. He was smiling, and his face simultaneously had easy-going and serious expression. He was dressed in the light blue taffeta shirt, the purple puffy Venetian pants, and the purple striped satin doublet, lavishly trimmed with diamonds and sapphires. His chestnut hair fell over his ears from beneath the light blue velvet flat cap, adorned with two white feathers and jeweled with the diamond brooch, _the_ _affiquet_.

Charles was François' favorite child. Charles was most definitely his father's son. His character was similar to François' one in many aspects. Even their tastes were quite similar and their clothes often resembled each others'. Young Charles was known for his practical jokes and his extravagance, which his father wholeheartedly approved. By all accounts, Charles was much more popular with everyone at the court than Dauphin Henri, and the French nobility of the time would have much preferred to have him as the Dauphin as opposed to his dispirited and repressed brother.

Dauphin Henri arched a brow. "Charles, I didn't expect to see you here."

Prince Charles bowed to Diane de Poitiers. "Madame," he greeted.

Diane rose to her feet. She curtsied before Charles. "Your Highness, I am honored to see you in my chambers," she spelled out. She shrank into her chair.

Charles shifted his gaze from Diane to Henri, and his face lightened up. He didn't like Diane de Poitiers, and it was no secret for everybody at the court. "Henri, you didn't come to play cards today. I decided to come by myself."

Dauphin Henri forced a smile. "You see, Charles, we are playing cards."

Charles sat in the chair near Diane and Henri. He smiled with an ambiguous smile. He loved his brother, but he hated that Henri often preferred Diane's company to that of his siblings. She had too much influence over him, and Charles didn't like that. "I see," he said shortly. "I received a letter from our father. I think you also know the news."

Henri nodded. "I know that our father again married a woman who saved his life."

Charles laughed merrily. A carefree expression was on his face. "I am happy that our father is alive and that he is married. Maybe he will finally find his happiness and peace," he assumed.

"I hope the new Queen of France is a Catholic," Henri snapped.

Charles cocked his eyebrows. "Our father follows the policy of religious tolerance."

"France is a Catholic country," Henri opposed his brother.

Charles grinned at him. "Even if a new Queen of France has some interest in new religious movements, like Aunt Marguerite, I see no harm in it. We live in Renaissance time, and enlightenment is a key source of knowledge," he expressed his opinion.

Henri averted his gaze. "Charles, you should care whether this woman is a Catholic or not." He rubbed his cheek. "I hope that she is at least conservative in her ideas."

Charles shrugged. "Let's wait and see," he said in a neutral tone. He knew that it was no use to argue with Henri about religious topic. A smile illuminated his face. He took a pack of cards in his hands. "Henri and Madame Diane, shall we play?"

Henri smiled with a bleak smile. "Of course, Charles," a reply followed.

Diane was silent as two brothers spoke. She sighed as she again remarked how different two brothers were and how similar to King François Prince Charles was. "Gladly, Your Highness," she said sweetly.

* * *

_**August 18, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

King François and Queen Anne were playing in the game of cards in one of the reception rooms at _the Palazzo Montreuil_. The reception room was suitably elegant, with grand Flemish tapestries warming the walls, heavy oak furnishings, the whole ceiling painted with the images of perfect Greek and Italian Gods by many famous Renaissance artists, a ticking clock, and the Montreuil coat of arms in the colored windowpanes beside them.

Monsieur Jean already retired upstairs. As both François and Anne were skillful players, it took much time for one of them to win. Often they games ended in a draw. Sitting in the wooden high back armchairs, Jacques de la Brosse and Cardinal François de Tournon were observing the King and Anne in distance. They were drinking fine French wine and talking.

Brosse took a sip from his goblet. "Your Eminence, I think our King is charmed. Look how His Majesty looks at Her Majesty Queen Anne."

"It is a gaze of complete adoration," Tournon replied. It was in vain to refute that King François looked at Anne with adoration and with deep interest. "He is attracted to her."

"But he is not in love with her."

Tournon stared at Anne and François who laughed as Anne showed him her cards. He also smiled at them. "Our King may fall in love with Her Majesty."

"Time will show," Brosse said in a neutral tone. His gaze followed the King and the Queen.

"I have never known our King to be madly in love with any woman," Tournon added.

Brosse shrugged. "Don't forget about Madame Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess D'Étampes."

"I am not sure that our King has ever truly loved Duchess d'Étampes," the Cardinal objected. He had always thought that King François had never loved Duchess d'Étampes, having been just enamored with her beauty and her intelligence. He was sure that once François had matured, he simply wanted certain more or less permanent relations in his private life and found one woman – Duchess d'Étampes. But it wasn't love – it was wild passion. She was just the best candidate for the role of the King's constant, long-term lover. Tournon knew the King too well to draw such conclusions.

"Your Eminence knows better than I do," Brosse answered. He wasn't as close to the King of France as Cardinal de Tournon had always been.

Tournon raised his goblet and sipped wine. "This time it is something different."

Brosse raised his brows. "Why, Your Eminence?"

"His Majesty looks at Her Majesty with a very intensive gaze," the Cardinal stated.

Brosse signed. "Her Majesty Queen Anne is a very specific woman." He didn't know whether the King might be enamored with Anne. He decided to see and make conclusions later.

"If His Majesty wants something, he gets it, and now he wants his revenge on King Henry. His Majesty is no longer a young man whose decisions were at times clouded by emotions. He matured, and his mind is cold and calculating. He will finally have his plan implemented, sooner or later," Tournon commented.

"Yes, he will."

Cardinal de Tournon smiled as François smiled at Anne. He saw that the King smiled with a deep, warm smile. It confirmed the Cardinal's suspicions. "I wonder what will happen when the plan is realized, and it is just a matter of time. King Henry will be shocked." He paused and smiled as Anne and François were laughing when their game again ended in a draw again. "I was very young when King Henry married _Catherine of Aragon_. However, I know the life story of King Henry very well. Even when Prince Arthur was still alive, _King Henry VIII_ got his way as he was his mother's favorite. The Duke of York and a Prince at that time, Henry Tudor was spoiled since early childhood and was leading an extravagant life even despite _King Henry VII_'s well-known greediness and constant saving. The former Duke of York was always the indulged one, the charmed one, the one that trouble never reached because his mother Queen Elizabeth always protected him from his father's wrath. He was selfish enough to want everything for himself, even his brother's wife, _Catherine of Aragon_." He paused and chuckled, his gaze fixing at Brosse. "Imagine if King Henry learns about the innocence of the woman who once occupied all his heart, whether it was love or lust. Imagine what he will think and do as he learns that his former wife is the Queen of France. It will be difficult for King Henry to resign himself to the fact that King François and Queen Anne duped him."

"Point taken." Brosse shook his head, his smile broad and confident. "There will many fireworks once it happens."

Tournon smiled archly, sipping wine. "There might be fireworks and clashes. But if the plan was realized, King Henry would be cornered. He would have to do what King François and Queen Anne ask him to do. They would be forced to set up negotiations. Otherwise King Henry would lose his popularity as a King in England. The costs for the English monarchy would be too great if he rebelled against the way how the King and the Queen would make everything fair."

Brosse smiled strangely and leaned back in the chair, goblet in his right arm. "I am afraid King Henry might want to have his wife back. He might declare that their marriage was legitimate, not annulled." He paused and sipped wine. "Did His Majesty King François tell you what he plans to do in this case?"

Tournon shook his head. "King Henry won't do this. If he is cornered, what he will eventually realize, Her Majesty Queen Anne will ask him for a divorce agreement dated several days prior King Henry's marriage to Queen Jane Seymour. In this case, Queen Anne's children will still be legitimate, but she will be a divorced woman. This is just one of the possible variants."

Brosse finished his goblet of wine. "But in this case the divorce agreement will be signed later than it is dated! In this case King François' marriage to Queen Anne is doubtful."

Cardinal de Tournon smiled as he noticed that François and Anne again played in a draw. He slowly sipped wine, enjoying its taste. Then he spoke. "King François will never allow somebody, even the Pope himself, to doubt the validity of his marriage to Queen Anne. Of course, there will never be any public announcement that the divorce agreement was actually signed much later than the official date of their divorce was. Everything will be solved strictly in private between King François, Queen Anne, and King Henry. Everything will be kept only within this dangerous and rivalrous triangle."

"Now I understand, Your Eminence." Brosse arched a brow. "But what are the grounds for possible divorce?"

"There are a lot of options. As Queen Anne has power and foreign support, the reason for divorce might be harsh treatment of her and her children. Yet, I think that they will divorce on the basis of their mutual agreement. King Henry is the Supreme Head of the Church in England, and he might do what he wants."

"King Henry has an absolute power, but only in England," Brosse said with an ironic smile.

Cardinal de Tournon laughed. "Thanks God that King Henry is powerful only in his kingdom."

"Certainly," Brosse confirmed with a broad smile. "Otherwise many innocent people would suffer."

"Indeed," Tournon drawled. Then he jumped to another subject. "The divorce agreement is just one of several options to make Queen Anne's children with King Henry legitimate. The children might also be legitimized at the order of King Henry by the issuance of special decree passed by the Parliament. King François and Queen Anne will decide later what to do with this issue." He paused and cleared his throat. "In either case, their marriage will never be doubted. His Majesty King François will never allow this to happen, especially if he falls in love with his wife," he reiterated his thoughts. Then he chuckled. "I daresay that they have an excellent plan." His chuckle turned richer and then disappeared. "I just hope that Queen Anne is proud enough not to entertain the idea of reconciliation with King Henry. It would do no good for both our King and Queen Anne herself."

Brosse shook his head. "Her Majesty Queen Anne is too intelligent. She understands that as His Majesty King François married her, she tied herself to France."

Cardinal de Tournon smiled heartily. "I know that she is a very intelligent woman, even too intelligent." He smiled at the last words. "Besides, there are things that cannot be forgiven, even to the Kings."

Jacques de la Brosse understood Tournon's hint. He only nodded.

* * *

_**August 21, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

During all the time they were spending together, François was watching Anne. He sighed every time when he compared the beautiful, charming, joyful Anne Boleyn whom he met in _Calais_ in the winter of 1532 and the new Anne who became Queen Anne of France, though so far uncrowned. The new Anne wasn't less beautiful and attractive. On the contrary, her unconventional, exotic beauty evolved into something more attractive. For François, her strikingly blue almond-shaped eyes, framed with dark lashes and spaced just far enough apart to give her an exotic air, were the most beloved on Anne's face. The old Anne Boleyn had sparkling blue eyes, merry and conspiratorial. The new Anne had the same blue eyes, but stonily and calm, with muted sparkle. François noted that Anne became more feminine, even startlingly feminine. Something enigmatic, probably even both tragic, retreated in each part of her face and in the air around her. There was an enigmatic, incredible, and larger-than-life combination of feelings that were aroused in men who met Anne. The new Anne had much greater magnetism that dragged admirers and worshipers to her.

Was that magnetism so strong because she was enigmatic? Were the changes in Anne the straightforward result of the tragedies she had to survive through because of _King Henry VIII_? What was she feeling about Henry and her past? He didn't know and he was cautious. François was very interested in this new Anne. He adored her for her beauty, her intelligence, and her strength. He could say that Anne was probably even stronger than his first deceased wife Queen Claude of France who also had an incredible mind and was the most intelligent consort in France in the past centuries.

Anne smiled quite rarely. She was always calm, as though her emotions were frozen by the coldest northern wind Boreas. She had a rigid control over her emotions. Anne's mind was a closed book for François. It was difficult to read her because she was always wearing an iron mask. Even in the moments of their intimacy Anne didn't open herself to him – she could be quite active in their lovemaking, but it wasn't passionate, and François felt it. He guessed that she often saw King Henry's image during their intimacy as she suddenly turned tensed and strained, like an arrow in the arbalest. He didn't like it, but he was patient because he knew that her heart was wounded by Henry's cruel betrayal. In addition, François felt responsible for Anne's fate because it was he who offered their deal with a marriage. It meant that he had to take into consideration her feelings and concerns with her.

François remarked that Anne often was abstracted in her thoughts when they were talking. Anne could grin and could smile, and these smiles weren't hypocritical and artificial. Yet, these smiles were different from the smiles of the old Anne Boleyn. These new smiles disrobed something fatal and mysterious. At times, contemplating these changes in Anne, François felt as though his wife was the symbolic incarnation of fate and doom, the immortal Goddess of mysteries _Despoina_ or the dying-and-rising Goddess _Persephone_, both being the incarnation of destiny. However, in any incarnation she was a living Goddess for him. She was an incredible woman.

François bestowed upon Anne many gifts. He bought for her several sets of exquisite, magnificent and expensive jewelry. He also ordered new French gowns and other accessories for her. Everything was made in such excellence and such splendor that only a Queen could wear those things. François also made several intellectual gifts for Anne; rare Italian books by Italian Renaissance writers, like Leon _Battista Alberti, Giannozzo Manetti, and Alessandro Piccolomini_, as well as books by Renaissance poets like _Francesco Berni, Antonio Beccadelli_, and others.

Anne accepted his gifts and thanked him very politely and with a wide smile. She often pointed out that she didn't deserve those gifts. He noticed that her smile was a social, charming smile, with an artificial nature. She was a little bored with the jewelry and the gowns. François noted that her smile was more sincere when he brought to her books or art subjects. He concluded that she had probably had enough of gold and trumpery at the English court. He continued to spent money on his new wife because he also enjoyed making gifts for her. He didn't know how to explain his feelings so he just did it.

The days in Venice were passing quickly. King François and his ministers were working very hard on the Franco-Venetian alliance. François spent much time with his ministers and courtiers, coming to _the __Palazzo Montreuil _during his free time and on the nights. The official version was that the King of France just lived at the residence of the former French ambassador to Venice Count Jean de Montreuil who was his father's close friend. It sounded plausible for the society.

François and Anne often talked about literature, art, music, and about Italian Renaissance in general. They also talked about politics and discussed a new alliance between France and the Republic of Venice, which was necessary to secure France from the military maneuvers of _Emperor Charles V_ on the Italian Peninsula. Anne was stunned that François was talking to her even about the military alliances. He asked her opinion about the issue in the presence of Cardinal de Tournon and Jacques de la Brosse. It seemed that he was genuinely interested in her ideas and found them interesting and, probably, even useful. As compared to King Henry, François was much more enthusiastic to hear to her opinion on political matters. He even encouraged her to speak herself out, while Henry never did it. Anne liked it. Maybe everything wasn't as dark as it seemed to be at the first glance.

François was a very interesting companion. He was highly intelligent and very well-educated. He was a true Renaissance man who was much influenced by humanism than any other previous French king. François' mother _Louise de Savoie_ was fascinated by Italian Renaissance art and eagerly passed this interest on to her son and her daughter, François' elder sister _Marguerite de Navarre, the Queen of Navarre_. François patronized many great artists of his time, including _Andrea del Sarto_ and _Leonardo da Vinci_, who lived in France during his last years. Leonardo even brought with him to France many of his greatest works, including _the Mona Lisa_ or _La Joconde_, and it remained in France after his death. Inspired by the architectural styles of the Italian Renaissance, François built many new magnificent buildings, including his most important jewels – _the Château de Chambord_ and _the Château de Fontainebleau_. Many Italian artists were employed in decorating François' palaces. The King also rebuilt _the_ _Palais du Louvre_, transforming it from a medieval fortress into a marvelous building of Renaissance splendor. François had always worked diligently at improving the royal library and employed agents in Italy to look for rare books and manuscripts. The King of France was desperately trying to bring culture to the war-obsessed French nation. His court was the most cultured in Europe.

For Anne her new marriage was a strange, unfamiliar experience. She often compared King François and King Henry, and in many aspects they were different. François was much calmer and more rational than Henry. He wasn't prone to be blinded with anger and rampage. It was rather rare when François was more influenced by emotions and anger than by rationality and logic. Henry was so much affected by his anger and rampage that he had signed a death warrant of the innocent woman whom he had pledged to love and protect. Definitely, François wasn't capable of such madness.

Every night François was making love to Anne, and she always tried to relax, but it was a difficult task for her. Their tender, soft intimacy gave her many enjoyable sensations, which resulted in a slow, lingering physical release that made Anne nearly mindless with pleasure. François' warm lips on hers awoke a host of sensations, even though sensations of physical nature, that she hadn't been sure she could have felt anymore after Henry's betrayal and before her marriage to François. Anne was lucky that François was highly proficient in an art of physical love. It wasn't strange because he was a Frenchman. However, Anne still felt a little uncomfortable and often was either impassive or was acting on automatic during their nights. Yet, she didn't repent of having spent many nights with François, even if she didn't love him. A feeling of triumph swept through her heart as she thought that her current royal husband, not King Henry, could give her pleasure in the bed. It was a kind of her small revenge on Henry for everything he did to her, to her brother George, and to their innocent children. Great revenge was ahead.

When François and Anne were sleeping close to each other, their limbs wrapped with one another, Anne often remembered her nights with King Henry. Often when François kissed and caressed her, a flash of Henry's face slashed through her mind and anger simmered in her heart at one blow, making her as impassive in the bed as a usual doll, almost frozen and tensed like a stretched string of a violin. In these moments François didn't pressure her to continue: he usually pressed a kiss on her forehead and tenderly hugged her. Anne was grateful to François that he was so patient and careful with her. When she remembered Henry and their vehement passion, a thousand of emotions coursed through her veins – repulsion, fear, hate, trepidation, hate, and, probably, love. She was sure that she still loved Henry, despite all his acts of atrocity and despite his cruelty. At the same time, she hated him with all her heart. She hated him as much as she once loved him. It was a strange feeling, as though she had stepped on the land of confusion and uncertainty in sensitive aspects of her life. Did she still love Henry? Or did she hate him? Could love be so destructive and so hateful? There was a terrible mess in her head.

Anne still suffered from terrible nightmares as her past was haunting her in her sleep. It was early morning, and only a slight dawn washed the horizon with a blurred pink sunrise. Anne and François were lying in the bed, their limbs entwined after a dance of physical love. At that night, Anne had a terrible dream that she was being burnt at the stake while King Henry, Lady Mary Tudor, and Jane Seymour were watching her agonizing death and were laughing at her torments. It wasn't the first such dream as she got used to similar dreams since her escape from England.

As she awoke in cold sweat from her nightmare, Anne groaned and stared ahead, in the dark emptiness of the bedchamber. She felt that her face flushed with a hot rush of blood. Her breathing was quite, yet erratic. Her heart was beating wildly against her chest, and she found it difficult to catch her breath. A lump raised in her throat. She swallowed hard over and over again. Unspeakable horror and dreadful fear captured all her living essence, heavy metal chains of intense pain nearly suffocating her with a hard touch of steel on her throat.

Anne forgot that she wasn't alone in her bed. François also awoke and sat in the bed. He reached for her and pulled her closer to his chest. "Shhh," François whispered. He buried her in the force of his solid arms, pressing her to his chest and waiting for her breathing to return to normal. "Shhh," he soothed her. During their night he had overdone himself in their tender intimacy. He silently questioned whether he had probably scared her in process. His heart missed a beat and started pounding harder. "Did I hurt you today?" He thought that his heart would burst with concern and anxiety.

"No, Your Majesty," Anne murmured truthfully. Her eyes were closed.

He emitted a sigh of relief. "Did you have a bad dream?" Her dark hair was long and fell free on her shoulders. He reached out and touched a strand of hair near her face.

"Yes," she murmured. She sounded so melancholy.

François listened to her breathe, and then he kissed the nape of her neck where her hair fell away. She did not stir. He was overwhelmed with lavender scent from her hair. "What was it?"

Anne took a deep breath and held it for a long, long moment. "Nothing serious," she finally answered.

François only sighed heavily. He knew that "nothing" had meant Henry Tudor and Jane Seymour, the Tower of London, her execution, and something from her past life in England. Only now he realized how emotionally fragile she was, despite her brilliant masquerade of indifference and courtesy during the daytime. He bent his head down and softly pressed his lips to hers for a single chaste kiss. Then he broke away. "You will be fine, Anne. Please try to sleep," he coaxed.

"I will try, Your Majesty," Anne replied. She closed her eyes. "Thank you," she said in a half whisper.

François encircled Anne in a protective embrace as they lay back on gold and ivory overstuffed silk pillows. She could hear nothing but his steady breathing, the warmth of it so close to her face. It was true that Anne still was grieving, and her anguish was stronger than the earthquake of the greatest magnitude. She wanted to escape from pain and wished nobody to suffer, apart from her enemies, particularly King Henry. Her pain was unbearable especially in the nightfall. However, when she was in his arms, she didn't feel as lonely as she usually felt. His tenderness and protectiveness calmed her down and took away some of her pain. Then she drifted to sleep.

* * *

_**I would like to take this opportunity and thank the readers who subscribed and favourited this story.**_

_**I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help.**_

_**Thank you to my new reviewers, including . .xxx, Slayer's Angelus, 1994omi, Anne de Montmorency, Starfire201, Anne and Francis, Like A Clockwork Orange, SlashMyDreams, ProngsandI**_, _**ElvinaPotter, Jane, Audriel, and many guests.**_

_**Thank you to my constant reviewers: , Vader'sMistress, Unnamed Visitor, BoleynofAragon21, Kittenallie, Melody Anna Kamiya Tudor, Anne Boleyn fan, Marina Ka-Fai, furin-a, Emperor Mark Antony, aishiteru naru, paradiso31, yuiop, many guests, and others.**_

_**HelenSES, Black tertulia, Jenna of the Red Robes**__**, **__**ArTeMuS09**__**, **__**ValueMyHeart, and Kaizer-Kid., I truly hope that you are not disappointed with the story. **_

_This update is a gift for my readers before the weekend._

_The exact date of Anne Boleyn's birth is not known and is assumed to be somewhere between 1500 and 1508. I think in the show Anne was born around 1507/1508. Since we don't know it, please be aware that in this story Anne Boleyn is supposed to be born in the latest years of the assumed time range – around 1508 or a little earlier. Many historians think that Anne was in France when she was very young, and I will think so. I don't want to make Anne older than François' mistress Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, who will become Anne's enemy, as well as older than Jane Seymour._

_I hope you liked Anne and François' wedding and wedding night. I wanted to portray the wedding beautifully. I couldn't imagine it otherwise. There will be quite many romantic and sensitive moments in this story as my writing style is not "dry". _

_During the wedding night, Anne is thinking about Henry during the wedding and even throughout wedding night. But what else can we expect from her? She needs more time to adapt to her new role. Besides, François and Anne's night mirrors Henry's dreams during his night, which is done just for an emotional effect._

_In this story, I am portraying François a little romantic. He was a true Renaissance man who was fascinated by Italy. He was indeed romantic when he wanted it and when it fitted his purposes. In the memoirs about King François I's court from my relatives' collections, which I am reading now, he is portrayed as quite a romantic man in his relations with his beloved Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly who was a beautiful, but a cunning woman._

_Historical fact about the alliance between France and the Ottoman Empire are correct. Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard_ and _Jean de La Forêt indeed were the ambassadors to the Ottoman Empire when the Franco-Turkish alliance was established._

_The Siege of Corfu by the Ottomans happened in reality, but in this story it wouldn't take place. Historical fact about the alliance with Scotland through marriage of Mary de Guise to King James V of Scotland is correct._

_The mentioned facts about the Republic of Genoa and the Republic of Florence are correct._

_The Franco-Venetian alliance in this story is imaginary. I introduced this twist because the plot will develop amid the Italian war for many chapters, but it is quite far till the moment when King François and Emperor Charles V have a decisive battle. The Italian war will be described on the basis of real Italian war, but with some changes. I will let you know what I am changing._

_Now I have two questions. Do you want Anne and François to have a child or children? I think that it is desirable to bond them to each other and to take their revenge on Henry. Whom do you want Jane to have: a girl, a boy, a miscarriage, a stillborn, or a child with defects? I have my own ideas, but I am still thinking. Thus, I am interested in your opinion._

_**Let me know what you like and dislike in this chapter and in the story in general. Reviews are always appreciated, including criticism, provided that it is well grounded. Thank you in advance.**_

_When you write a long, long chapter, it is quite probable that there will be typos and even some errors. Even a beta reader may miss some mistakes, and it is just because the chapter is very long and because there is a lot of information there. And it is normal. A reader with his scrupulous gaze often notices more than a writer and even a beta reader. If you can find typos and/or mistakes in any of my chapters, I do apologize. Please let me know about them in a private message._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Good and bad news**

_**August 25, 1537, Canals, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

One day François and Anne, accompanied by the guards, decided to make a long trip on the canals of Venice. They specially chose the quite late afternoon time, around six in the evening, in order to preserve their secret more carefully. The royal blue and gold gondola belonging to the King François waited for them. The reticent gondolier helped them onto the craft with silent reverence.

François looked at Anne. He was mesmerized. Anne glowed in the finest extravagant creamy silk gown, trimmed with creamy Venetian laces and with pearls on the front. The gown tapered at the waist and revealed the upper curves of her full breasts, having the low square-cut neckline. She looked every inch the greatest beauty, even if unconventional beauty, and the greatest charmer of realm. Under the King's gaze her body felt as disconcerted as her mind. He smiled at her inward embarrassment. Anne looked much more attractive and more beautiful than _Eleanor of Austria_ and even better than Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, his long-term _maîtresse en titre_. The more time François spent with Anne, his new wife, the more he was forgetting about the well-cultured and blond-haired lover Anne de Pisseleu. He didn't want to remember that Duchess d'Étampes was impatiently waiting for him in Turin. He hadn't sent her even a single letter since he had arrived in Venice.

Suddenly, their bodies lurched as the gondola was launched. Anne felt the ripples of the water pass beneath the wood at her feet. She heard the oar's soft splash as it dipped into the water, again and again, like the ticking of a clock on a sleepless night. Suddenly, nausea started attacking her as the splashes of water turned louder and louder that they reverberated in her ears. The four windowless sides of the cloth cabin seemed to draw closer around her. The beautiful headpiece of pinned-up, bejeweled braids felt tighter on her head. Blood was throbbing in her temples. She drew a deep breath, but it wasn't enough. Her chest constricted, her throat narrowed.

"Your Majesty," Anne pronounced in one single breath. She was very pale.

François stepped closer to her and stared at her. "Anne, how are you feeling?" There was undeniable concern in his eyes and in his tone.

Her face blanched even more as blood drained from her face. She was ghostly pale at that moment. "I cannot breathe," she whispered.

Leaning forward, she threw open the drape and rushed out. The gondola swayed under her sudden, jerky motion. With little grace, she flounced down on the bench just outside the baldachin. Seconds passed before François joined her, sitting beside her on the bench. He put an arm around her shoulder.

"How are you feeling now, Anne?" he inquired.

Anne turned to him and smiled. It was so pleasant when somebody asked about her health. Henry asked her about it rarely and didn't care for it in the past months of their marriage. "Better, Your Majesty. Thank you for your concern," she replied with gratitude.

François tightened his arm around her shoulder. He didn't want to let her body vibrate along the splashes of the water. "Anne, please tell me if you want to leave the gondola. We will return."

"No, it is alright. I want to stay," Anne said convincingly.

Soon the gondola turned onto the wide Grand Canal where they passed many gondolas on each side, their drivers singing, their passengers talking and laughing. However, they continued on in silence, as mute and subdued as their gondolier and the guards. Anne decided that it would be better in order not to attract attention to them. Anne contemplated the beauty of her surroundings with a versant stare, as if seeing a rare beautiful flower for the first time. The magnificent _palazzi_ dominated both sides of Venice's main thoroughfare, their colorful stone façades of lime and ochre, with whimsical tracery ornamentation, and open loggias and arcades, giving these Venetian palaces their particular distinction.

"Anne, what a beauty you are," François remarked. "Your eyes are so blue, Madame," he said, as though he told her something she didn't know.

Anne felt his hand on her shoulder. She knew that he was studying her appearance, despite her gaze away from his face. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said simply.

"I have seen such eyes only once before." His voice was very low, barely a whisper. Anne felt that he turned his head and no longer looked at her, somewhere else. "They are like columbine or blue barlow flowers of rich royal blue color. Columbine usually blooms in early spring to early summer. I saw a lot of these flowers in early childhood in the gardens of _the Château d'Amboise_ where I was raised." François didn't know why he became so sentimental. Anne gave him an impulse to behave strangely.

When she served as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Claude of France, Anne had spent quite some time at _the Château d'Amboise_ because the Queen mainly lived there, as well as at _the Château de Blois_. "I remember Amboise, but I don't remember these flowers there." Anne tipped her head to the side, turning her strikingly blue eyes upon the King and smiled with a small, benevolent smile. "And my eyes are exactly the color of these flowers at Amboise?" It was a question out of pure curiosity.

François' face had a faraway look, with an irrefutable sparkle of pleasure. "Exactly the same color."

The smile bestowed on Anne's face, both lips and eyes. "Your honor me, Your Majesty."

Anne's eyes stopped on _the Palazzo Barbarigo_, the residence of the French ambassador to Venice, which was one of the most opulent _palazzi_ on the Grand Canal, distinguished by its mosaics of some exotic glass. _The Palazzo Barbarigo_ was the finest Renaissance pattern of design on three floors: an open loggia with an access to the canal surmounted by _a Piano nobile_ with open loggias and decorated columns, with a "_secondo piano nobile_" or secondary floor above. Many other Renaissance _palazzi_ around on the canal were covered in polychrome and gilt decorations, with elaborate plaster and stucco work adding to their splendor. Soon they saw _the Palazzo Corner Spinelli_, standing across the canal from _the Palazzo Querini Dubois_. Other _palazzi_ around bore different exteriors, though many possessed a large set of central windows flanked by twin towers, creating a stage to show the wares offered by the owner. Soon they faced _the Palazzo Ducale_ or _the Doge's Palace_ that was built in Venetian flamboyant Gothic style and that was one of the main landmarks of the city of Venice.

"I like Renaissance style much more than the Gothic style," François said.

Anne arched a brow. "Why, Your Majesty?"

The King of France also smiled. "In contrast to the Gothic buildings, the grand Renaissance buildings exhibit perfect symmetry of architectural details, exquisite proportions, and fine geometry of parts. They usually have numerous large windows with open marbles. Windows are often round-arched and have columns in the three classical orders. In the Gothic style columns tend to be thinner, while elongated arches are replaced by pointed or ogee or lobed ones," he answered as a true professional.

A smile hovered over her lips. "Your Majesty, you are a true Renaissance gentleman." She didn't say "a true Renaissance King", but a gentleman because at that moment both of them were just people who enjoyed their time during the water stroll. She had always been stunned how well educated François was. It was indeed luck that she was educated at the French court, not at the English court or at home, at Hever Castle. If it happened to her, she would be proficient only in the needlework and sewing.

"Anne," François spoke her name with some lyrical accent.

She raised her brow. "Your Majesty?"

"Venice is a magnificent place," he answered with a delightful smile.

Anne smiled with an enchanting smile in response, and suddenly François could see only that smile and nothing more. Everything else evaporated from his mind.

* * *

_**August 28, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy**_

_The Castello di Rivoli _was built in the 11th century as a fortified construction along the road to France. The first owners of the castle were the Archbishops of Turin, and in 1247 it became the property of the Savoy family. In the Middle Age and in the Renaissance time, the castle was one of the capitals of the Savoy itinerant court, being the hub for important political meetings, marriages, and many others magnificent celebrations. Since the French invaded and captured Savoy and its capital Turin in 1536, the place was used by the King of France and his courtiers as the French primary residence in Piedmont. A part of the great and magnificent French court moved to Turin together with the King of France, his _maîtresse en titre_ _Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes_, and other important courtiers and French military men.

Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France, was waiting for Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, and her ladies to come. He perched himself on the end of a winged armchair and waited. Montmorency had never liked Anne de Pisseleu and was had an unspoken alliance with several other courtiers against her. Most importantly, Montmorency was allied with Diane de Poitiers, the Dauphin's mistress. Although many rumors circulated around the recent assassination attempts, Duchess d'Étampes seemed to live in her own carefree world while she was in Turin. Not willing to be the object of Anne de Pisseleu's wrath, many courtiers preferred not to tell her that the King had married another woman. Montmorency decided that it was time for her to learn the truth.

Then a laugh reached his ears, and the herald announced that Anne de Pisseleu and her ladies-in-waiting had come. As the door burst open, Montmorency lurched to his feet.

The women streamed inside the room in amidst their chatter and laugh. They were a perfect picture of charming beauty now: cheeks rosy, hair wind-blown, the ladies were wearing the effects of the afternoon outdoor easily and graciously. In the center of the whirlpool, Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess d'Étampes, walked with the conviction of her position. She held herself like a Queen.

Anne de Montmorency was mesmerized for a second. Indeed, Anne de Pisseleu was a beautiful blonde-haired woman with almond-shaped green eyes, which had a glimpse of intelligence, cunningness, charm, and kindness in their depths. Her body was well-curved and was often compared by King François to _the body of Venus_.

Anne de Montmorency bowed to Duchess d'Étampes. She also made a deep curtsy in front of him. Then Montmorency took one of Anne's gloved hands and brushed it with his mouth in accordance with the etiquette. He smiled wryly at Anne, thinking that now he would destroy her happiness. As Anne stepped back from Montmorency, Anne plunked herself into the largest, fluffiest chair near the window. With a gesture of her hand, she showed Marshal Anne de Montmorency to take a sit near her.

As if within a well-choreographed dance, four ladies-in-waiting turned together and curtsied to Montmorency. All these ladies-in-waiting were Anne de Pisseleu's female sisters and cousins. Anne, the daughter of _Guillaume, seigneur de Pisseleu_, had many brothers and sisters, all of whom had to thank Anne for their elevated status. After Anne became King François' mistress, the Pisseleus family boasted to have three brothers as bishops, two sisters as abbesses, her uncle, _Antoine Sanguin_, being made Bishop of Orléans in 1533, and others siblings and relatives making great marriages. Many courtiers complained that Anne was using her position as the King's lover to elevate and enrich her family.

Anne de Pisseleu smiled at Anne de Montmorency. "Monsieur de Montmorency, did you bring any news from His Majesty King François?"

Montmorency also smiled with a wry smile. "Madame d'Étampes, I have quite alarming news for you. Our brave and benevolent sovereign, _King François I of France_ had nearly died in the Republic of Venice. There was an assassination attempt on his life in one of the Cathedrals – in _the_ _Saint Mark's Basilica_. However, the King was saved by one brave noblewoman, but she herself was injured."

Anne de Pisseleu felt her knees trembling. "Dear Lord! I knew that something could happen! I had a sort of bad foreboding." She clapped her hands in frustration. "How is His Majesty feeling now?"

Montmorency smiled with a jeering smile. "The King is much better than you can imagine. He married the lady who saved him in the city of Venice. It happened several weeks ago."

Duchess d'Étampes narrowed her eyes. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. It just couldn't be true. The King of France loved her and couldn't marry so quickly after the annulment. No, Anne de Montmorency was her enemy at the court and he was simply taunting, the Duchess speculated. She blinked. "Monsieur de Montmorency, I don't appreciate your jokes," she eventually uttered.

"It is not a joke, Madame d'Étampes. You can ask other courtiers if you don't believe me." His ironic smile turned broader, showing his white teeth. "It seems that you are the last person in Turin who doesn't know the news from Venice."

Torn between confusion and rampage, Anne de Pisseleu raised her chin. "Whom did the King marry and why?" Her voice was a little shattering.

"Madame, the name of the new Queen is kept secret in order to protect her life before all the dangers and threats are liquidated. This is the King's official order."

Anne sucked her teeth with impatience. She gave an icy glare to Montmorency. "Monsieur de Montmorency, do you have a private letter for me from His Majesty?"

Montmorency shook his head in negative response. "No, Madame," he said dryly. "However, if I were in your shoes, I would leave Turin for Paris as soon as possible. The Emperor was intimidated by the annulment of our King's marriage to his sister, former Queen Eleanor. The Emperor is mobilizing and training his troops now. Although we don't expect the battle to happen earlier than in the spring of next year, it might still be quite dangerous to stay here."

"I see," she whispered, not quite understanding reality.

Montmorency was pleased with Anne's despair she tried to hide under her mask of coldness. "Madame, your husband, _Jean IV de Brosse, Duke d'Étampes and Count de Penthievre_, is waiting for you in Paris. I suggest coming back to him." He was taunting her. "I think he isn't sleeping and eating, just waiting for your arrival," he mocked.

In 1533, King François arranged a marriage of convenience for Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly. She became a wife of _Jean IV de Brosse, Count de Penthievre_, whom the King created Duke d'Étampes. Anne de Pisseleu and her husband were on bad terms and were estranged.

Anne de Pisseleu jumped to her feet, her eyes sparkling with anger, her jaw clenched. "Monsieur de Montmorency, get out before I will ask the guards to make you leave!" Her eyes promised all kind of troubles. "Get out! Get out!"

Montmorency slowly rose to his feet. He smiled with satisfaction. "Madame, I am leaving. I just offered you my friendly advice because it might be dangerous to stay in Turin."

"Get out!" Duchess d'Étampes cried out. She had always hated Montmorency, and that feeling was reciprocal.

His smile turned broader. "I guess His Majesty King François might bring his new wife, the Queen of France, here. In this case you, Madame, will probably be obliged to leave." Then he stepped closer to the door. He bowed to the ladies and opened the door. "Have a pleasant evening and night, Madame d'Étampes." His tone was sharp and sarcastic.

When Montmorency left the room, Anne dismissed all her ladies-in-waiting, excluding her elder sister _Péronne de Pisseleu_ who was married to _Michel Jean de Barbançon, seigneur de Canny and Varennes_.

Anne de Pisseleu felt ripped apart, hot tears were spilling on her cheeks. "Péronne, _mon amour_, my François, married another woman," she murmured through tears.

Péronne knelt down to her sister. "Anne, the King's marriage doesn't mean that he banished you from the court and that you are no longer his favorite. You have always had a large and warm place in his heart."

Anne looked down at her sister. "Péronne, if the King of France married that woman from Venice so quickly, even if she saved his life, she should be an incredible woman."

"It might be a marriage of political nature," Péronne objected.

Anne de Pisseleu swallowed her sobs. She took a handkerchief from Péronne's hands and blew her nose. "No, Péronne," she contradicted. "The King had already had two political marriages – one to his third cousin _Claude of France_ to secure inheritance of the throne and another one to _Eleanor of Austria_ to release his two sons from the captivity. If he married so quickly after the annulment of his second marriage, it means only one thing – it is not only the marriage for political reasons. His new wife must be an incredible woman."

Péronne sighed heavily. "Anne, nobody can be compared with you. _You are the most beautiful among the learned and the most learned among the beautiful._"

Anne de Pisseleu only laughed bitterly. "Péronne, I am not the only cultured and beautiful lady. There are brilliant women, like the deceased Anne Boleyn, the former Queen of England. For her sake, _King Henry VIII of England_ had torn apart the whole country and separated the Church of England from the Papacy. It was done only to marry Anne Boleyn." She paused and swallowed a sob. "If King François' new wife is somebody like Anne Boleyn, I will never be able to return his love."

Péronne's eyes grew wide. "But Anne…"

Duchess d'Étampes waved for silence. "I know the King quite well. He would have never married that woman if she hadn't been an exclusive, incredible woman."

"What are you going to do, sister?"

"I will wait for François in Turin and will talk to him," Anne answered truthfully. "I will be able to understand what he feels for his new wife. Actually, I am not sure that he loves me now." She looked down on her lap. "There is another thing I will never have." She raised her eyes up, glaring at the ceiling of the room, then at her sister. There was pain in her green eyes. "I am barren. I haven't given François even a single child in the past eleven years since I became his mistress." She swallowed her sobs. "Péronne, you know that I desperately tried to get pregnant by François. You know how François wanted to have children with me when he loved me." Her voice took a lower octave. "But nothing helped!" she cried out in despair and sighed heavily. "I have never even been pregnant by any man, neither the King of France or my husband and others." She sighed heavily. "François' new wife may give him children, the royal children," she lamented in her silent demise.

"Anne, the King still loves you."

Anne de Pisseleu shook her head. "I am not so sure, sister. I feel this."

"Oh, Anne," Péronne sniveled. You know that my loyalty is always only for you."

Duchess d'Étampes looked heartily at the girl. "Thank you, sister," she said with gratitude. "Don't worry – I will be alright," she assured.

Péronne sighed. "If you need something, please let me know."

"I need only François, my François," Anne de Pisseleu said as a mantra. She drew a deep, wearying breath. "I will make sure that François will always be mine. He is mine and only mine. I won't allow his new wife to take him from me," she hissed.

* * *

_**August 30, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

_Admiral Baron de Saint-Blancard_ and _Jean de La Forêt_ came back from the Ottoman Empire in the middle of September. They brought positive news: _Suleiman the Magnificent_ agreed not to attack Corfu and to relocate more than one hundred of the Turkish ships to _Marseilles _in order to help France in the military campaign against the Emperor. In response, the Dodge of Venice Andrea Gritti agreed to sign the treaty of an alliance between France and the Republic of Venice. As a result, France was allied with the Republic of Venice, the Papal States, the Duchy of Milan, and the Ottoman Empire against _Holy Roman Emperor Charles V_, King François' most ardent enemy.

François told Anne that his sister Queen Marguerite of Navarre had instructed _Clément Marot_, the infamous French poet and the supporter of the Protestant Reformation in France, to prepare the critical book about the Reformation in England led by Thomas Cromwell. The book must have stressed that Cromwell had designed the plot to murder the innocent Queen Anne Boleyn because she was his enemy who protested against the groundless Dissolution of the Monasteries. The poet _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_ was preparing the incriminating pamphlets about Cromwell.

Anne also received a letter from Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, in which he said that he became the closest friend for Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. Henry Percy pledged that he would make Cranmer talk to King Henry about Anne's last confession. Henry Percy wrote that he had already planned everything in advance. Anne told François about Henry Percy's actions. François approved of them, stating that Henry Percy had to be very cautious. Therefore, the downfall of Thomas Cromwell could materialize soon, Anne mused.

Anne and François were sitting on the settee in the art gallery of _the Palazzo Montreuil_. Everything around was an epitome of the Renaissance style. The furniture was made out of oak and decorated in rich style, with many inlays of gold, silver, and marble, some pieces even decorated with marquetry. Rich velvets and shimmering gauzes were used for wall coverings and draperies in the room. The pictures on the walls were painted by Renaissance artists like _Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Giovanni Bellini, Giorgio Barbarelli_, and others. Anne's French "grandfather" was a devoted art-loving collector.

"Anne, I think that Lord Northumberland should talk to Archbishop Cranmer after the pamphlets about Cromwell are issued," King François suggested.

Anne stared at him. "You Majesty, I agree with you, but I assume that the pamphlets will enrage King Henry. In that case, he might be less prone to talk about Anne Boleyn." It was so difficult to talk about herself as though about the third party, but she had already got accustomed to that.

François took her hands in his. "Anne, the pamphlets will proclaim your innocence. Of course, Henry will be furious." They were so close to each other. He began stroking her hair. "But without the pamphlets Archbishop Cranmer wouldn't have any plausible reason to talk to Henry about your last confession."

Anne blinked. "Maybe I should write to Henry Percy and warn him not to talk to Archbishop Cranmer before the pamphlets are issued."

François nodded. "It is an excellent idea." Then his face turned serious. "Anne, please write to Lord Northumberland that if he feels any danger in England, he could anytime go to France. I will make sure that Philippe de Chabot knows about this."

"Thank you," she replied with gratitude. She raised her head and stared at the painting on the one of the walls. It was the picture _Madonna and Child_ by _Giovanni Bellini_.

"Do you like the painting?" François asked, pointing toward the picture with a jeweled finger. There was a note of such deep sadness in his voice that it startled Anne. "I see how you are looking at Madonna. You think it is fine?"

Anne turned to face him and noticed a flash of grief in his amber eyes. "Yes, I like it, Your Majesty."

"What is it that it speaks to you?" Again, a note of bleakness was in his voice.

"It is the child that captures my attention. He is so young and so innocent. And Madonna's hands seem to hold my good memories about England like she is holding a child."

François guessed that she meant her children Arthur and Elizabeth when she mentioned "good memories about England". He managed a lamentable smile. "You have a keen eye, Anne. I also have a similar painting by _Giovanni Bellini_ in my art gallery at _the Château de Fontainebleau_." A furrow formed between his brows. "Looking at this picture, I often imagine the same as you do, but in my case these memories are about my four deceased children."

Anne knew that François was talking about Dauphin François and Princess Madeleine who died during the past two years, as well as about his two daughters Princess Louise and Princess Charlotte who died many years ago, in their early childhood. Anne understood him. François still felt a nagging, obtuse pain for the loss of his children. Anne felt the same pain as she had miscarried twice. Her mind momentary drifted back to King Henry, her ex-husband. Did Henry feel the same pain as François still felt after his children had died? Henry was very depressed when Catherine regularly miscarried and when Anne herself lost their son in January 1536. However, Henry seemed to be more or less immune to their sorrow because he quickly adapted to the loss and continued leading his life in opulence and lavishness, as though nothing had happened. Henry also blamed Anne for the loss of their children. Anne often wondered whether Henry had simply been so adaptable to pain, whether he had pretended, or whether he had been only a shallow person, incapable of deep feelings. She had never thought about Henry in that way earlier. After Henry's cruel betrayal when his love for her evaporated as soon as she had failed to give him a son when she had still been in a relative favor, Anne often questioned whether Henry's feelings for her were deep and sincere, like she felt for him. Maybe Henry felt only strong lust for her, his passion strengthened by desire to have what he couldn't have because Anne refused to be his mistress. Perhaps, Henry was a shallow person. She was bewildered and confused.

Anne half closed her eyes. "I understand, Your Majesty."

"It is not for my pleasure that I gather a lot of art works." François shifted on the settee, closer to Anne. His right arm encircled her waist, his left hand hugging her about her shoulders. "I want my people to open their minds to the genius of art and its beauty. Artists mark the path to enlightenment if we only know how to read the signs." Then his hands left her body.

Anne struggled to better understand François. It was as though she had never met him before. Although everybody knew about the King's high-spiritedness, François had always been arrogant and pompous, authoritative and regal with his ministers and courtiers. Even despite the disastrous military campaign in Italy and the defeat of French troops at Pavia, François had a reputation as a Knight-King and as one of the most powerful monarchs in Europe. Yet, Anne could have never imagined François to be so impressionable, so romantic, and so sentimental. He also seemed to be so human at those moments. Presently, she managed to see François from a new angle.

François ran his jeweled fingers through his thick chestnut hair. "Leonardo da Vinci taught me to understand art," he said quietly.

Anne looked at him, her eyes large and curious. "I have heard that Leonardo da Vinci was an extremely well-educated man and knew a lot of things behind art. Although I spent much time at Amboise with Her Majesty Queen Claude, I wasn't very close to Leonardo da Vinci."

François was silent as he turned her words over in his mind. He liked to remember his conversations with Leonardo. He spent many evenings with him. He was one of the greatest worshipers of his talents. François smiled and glared at Anne with longing as nostalgia overcame him. "Anne, I have never known a man as thirsty for knowledge as Leonardo da Vinci was. I can confess that the hours I spent with him at Amboise are precious to me. Although Leonardo's arm was paralyzed in the last years of his life and he could no longer paint, I enjoyed our conversation. Before I met him, I could have never imagined that something might have challenged my intellect so much. Thus, I regarded him the most cultivated man in Europe."

"I was at Blois when he died," Anne said.

François sent her an affectionate smile. "Leonardo didn't die in my hands and in my bed, although this legend is beloved by the French and is portrayed in many romantic paintings. He died at _the Château du Clos Lucé _at Amboise, on May 2, 1519. I wasn't there when he died, but my physicians attended him. _The Château du Clos Lucé_ is very close to _the Château d'Amboise_."

"So it is a legend about Leonardo's death in Your Majesty's arms," Anne said.

François laughed, his amber eyes dancing with devilish imps. The sadness was gone. "Yes, it is a legend, Anne." The cloud passed over his features and then brightened up. "Yet, some legends are happy ones, and we must believe in them."

* * *

_**September 2, 1537, Château de Fontainebleau, Fontainebleau, France**_

_Marguerite de Navarre, the Queen of Navarre_, was reading the incriminating pamphlets about Thomas Cromwell, which were produced by _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_. Another poet and writer, _Clément Marot_, was in the process of writing a critical book about Thomas Cromwell's role in the English Reformation. Marot was ordered to make a special emphasis on the Dissolution of the Monasteries in England, limelighting the difference between Cromwell and Anne Boleyn's opinion about the matter.

Marguerite was absorbed in her thoughts as her finger traced the text in one of the numerous parchments at her desk. As always, she was dressed in the extravagant fashion wearing the eccentric purple gown, its décolletage quite low and pressed flat against her breasts, her neck draped with elegant pearls. The collar and the cuffs of her sleeves were faced with the dazzling white laces. The stylish pearl-dotted French hood, bejeweled in diamonds and in amethysts, was on her head, revealing her long dark hair falling to her shoulders.

The French poet _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_ studied at _Bologna_ and _Padua_ and had the reputation of being doctor, astrologer and musician as well as poet. As he returned back to France in 1523, after his studies in Italy, he gained favor at the court of the art-loving _King François I_. Saint-Gelais was enjoying immense popularity at the court.

_Clément Marot_ also was an infamous poet at the French court. In 1519, Marot was attached to the suite of _Marguerite d'Alençon_, the future _Marguerite de Navarre_, his patroness and worshiper of his talent. Marot also was a great favorite of King François himself. He attended _the Field of the Cloth of Gold_ in 1520. In 1524, Marot accompanied King François on his disastrous Italian campaign.

Marguerite looked up at Mellin de Saint-Gelais. A smile illuminated her lovely face. "Mellin, these pamphlets are amazing. François will be pleased with the results of our work." She stared at the parchment. "I like that the pamphlets are so easy to remember by heart."

Mellin bowed to Marguerite. "Your Majesty, I am glad to hear this."

"You are welcome, Mellin," Marguerite replied with a smile. Her gaze shifted to Clément Marot. "Clément, when will the critical book about Thomas Cromwell be finished? François wants it to be done as soon as possible."

Marguerite was confused. She didn't understand why the pamphlets and the critical book were so important for her brother. She found it suspicious that François wished to criticize Cromwell in such harsh tones. Another mystery was why François wanted to highlight the innocence of the deceased Anne Boleyn. She also didn't comprehend why François had married another woman in several weeks after the annulment of his second marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_. Did François marry that woman, his _savior_, due to France's political interests? Was he driven by love from the first sight? Marguerite doubted that François had been wounded by a sudden shot of one _Cupid's_ arrow. It sounded like a fairy-tale for her that her dear François, so calm, so prudent, and so calculating in the past years, could have done any ill-advised act. Apparently, there was something immensely serious beneath her brother's marriage, she inferred.

Despite incomprehension, doubts, and desire for clarification, Marguerite proceeded to her task as soon as she was charged with it. She had always helped François and had always performed what he had asked her to do. Her brother charged her with the preparation of the accusatory materials because he was convinced that she was the only woman who could do everything in the best possible way. François also loaded that task on her shoulders because Marguerite herself was a prolific poet, a dramatist, and a prose writer who published a two-volume anthology of her works. Marguerite knew very well how to produce the best incriminating materials – reasonable, memorable, and vivid.

Clément Marot bowed to Marguerite. His face expressed that he was delighted to meet his patroness. "Your Majesty, the book will be ready in two weeks," he informed.

"Clément, please show me the drafts of the first chapters. I need to look through them before we publish and distribute them in France and later in England," Marguerite said in a commanding tone.

Clément nodded. "I will bring the first half of the book tomorrow."

Marguerite smiled with a bright smile. "Thank you, Clément and Mellin."

"You are welcome, Your Majesty," the poets answered together.

"I will start distributing the pamphlets in France next week. In two weeks we will be able to distribute the pamphlets in England," Mellin reported.

Clément chuckled. "Your Majesty, I think we will be able to finish the critical book in one month. Two more weeks are necessary to distribute the copies of the book in France and in England."

The distribution of the incriminating materials in England was supposed to be arranged by the French Ambassador to England Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion. François wanted to control the process by himself as he didn't wish to involve Marguerite into the revenge plan on King Henry. Philippe de Chabot's people were assumed to collect the materials in Paris and take them to England. Everything was done with a high degree of secrecy and cautiousness.

Marguerite started applauding. She was pleased and felt inspired. "Excellent! Excellent! François will be very pleased with us!" she cried out, her eyes beaming. "I will notify my brother when we are done, so that he could arrange the distribution."

* * *

_**September 1, 1537, Hever Castle, County of Kent, England**_

Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire, still lived at his family estate in Kent. He wasn't happy with his time at Hever Castle because he was a devoted courtier and didn't like life in the countryside. He was a cunning, clever man who was able to weave sophisticated, both dark and light, intrigues that either crushed or blessed human lives. He desperately wanted to come back to the court, but he knew that it wasn't rational to make rush actions in their quite delicate and hazardous situation.

His wife Lady Elizabeth Boleyn Howard spent the majority of her time in the bed. Grief and tragedies were deteriorating her heath day by day. She was very weak and often sick. She was praying to God for the lives of Anne and her daughter Mary. Lady Elizabeth wasn't very close with Mary during the past years, and she was adversely affected by Mary's complete estrangement from the family after George's execution and Anne's supposed death. She even couldn't meet her grandchildren, and it only worsened her general emotional distress.

Thomas Boleyn often thought about his grandchildren – Lady Elizabeth who was still in exile at Woodstock Manor and the baby Arthur who lived in Lady Mary Boleyn Stafford's household in Staffordshire. Thomas received two letters from Mary, in which she shortly notified her parents that Arthur was a healthy boy and that he was doing well. Mary also mentioned that the child had appearance striking resemblance to King Henry.

Thomas dreamed that one day King Henry would summon him back to the court, after Anne and George's names were cleared. He imagined how he would collect Arthur from Mary's household and present the boy to the King of England. Thomas hoped that Jane Seymour, who was carrying the King's child at that moment, would have either a daughter or a stillborn child. Crushed by his grief, King Henry would be more likely to remember about Anne's small child whom he had considered to be a son of two traitors. Maybe the King would even want to meet the boy. If Arthur had such strong resemblance to his father, King Henry would probably acknowledge him, Thomas Boleyn thought. In that case, he would have a chance to return what he had lost after so many years of hard work of placing Anne on the throne of England.

Several days ago, the Earl of Wiltshire received two letters from Venice, one of them from his friend Count Jean de Montreuil and the other from his daughter Anne. To guarantee safety and confidentiality of the correspondence, the letters were delivered in person by an unknown man. Thomas Boleyn was shocked when he learnt that Anne had saved King François in the Cathedral and that he had married her due to political reasons. As usual, he immediately burnt both letters after he had read them.

The fact that his daughter Anne had become the wife of the French King made the old man's heart beating to suffocation. Thomas Boleyn was afraid that Anne's new marriage might have brought to all of them additional problems. King François was not as cruel and easily manipulated as King Henry was, but he still was the powerful and ambitious King. At the same time, Thomas knew that François would help Anne clear her name and prove her innocence. The fact that Anne's marriage had been kept in strict secret slightly eased his fears. He smirked as he imagined King Henry's face when he would learn that his doomed wife, whom he ordered to burn at the stake, had become the Queen of France. Anne's new marriage might result in both endless possibilities and numerous threats. Thomas prayed that the potential future gains would outweigh the past losses.

"I don't know what to think about this marriage," Lady Elizabeth, Anne's mother, said. She was half frightened and half amused after she had learnt about Anne's marriage.

"If King François married Anne, it means that he did it for political reasons," Thomas Boleyn stated.

Lady Elizabeth nodded nearly apocalyptically. "Again political reasons…"

Thomas ignored her comment. "I hope that King François will fall in love with Anne. It will bond him to her, and he will help her without any hesitation."

"My dear Anne," Lady Elizabeth nearly sung dreamily. "Every man can be charmed by her."

Thomas Boleyn was proud that Anne was his daughter. She had always been his favorite child. He was also proud of himself because it was he who saved Anne and sent her to his old friend in Venice. He smiled. "I must admit that Anne is an incredible woman. No other woman could have become the Queen of England, be disgraced and then become the Queen of France."

His wife shook her head. "Anne has always been a unique girl."

Thomas smiled brightly, his young face suddenly eager. "It would be great if King François gets Anne with his child soon. The sooner it happens, the better it will be."

Lady Elizabeth shot him a killing glance. "Your ambitions once killed my son and nearly killed my daughter. Don't you dare to forget about your guilt," she snapped accusingly.

Thomas ignored his wife's spiteful comment. He wasn't about to argue with her. Undoubtedly, he knew that her words were right, but he could never recognize his guilt in front of anyone. He blamed himself silently. "It is not only my ambitions, wife. I am unlikely to benefit from this marriage, at least not in the nearest future. Bearing King François' child is to Anne's greatest advantage because King François will never discard the mother of his child born in a legal matrimony, even if she gives him only daughters. He has several male children, his heirs, and hence Anne is safe on this path."

"King François annulled his marriage to the Emperor's sister Eleanor," Lady Elizabeth noticed.

Thomas Boleyn laughed. "King François did that because he and the Emperor are enemies. I think that Judgment Day will come sooner than _King François I_ and _Emperor Charles V_ stop hating each other." A deep wrinkle marred his forehead. "I understand King François' desire to get rid of the Emperor's sister. I have heard that he had never consummated his second marriage."

Lady Elizabeth sighed. "Anyway, I am worried."

The Earl of Wiltshire took his wife's hands in his own and squeezed them. "Elizabeth, I served as the English ambassador to France for many years, and I know that King François is very different from King Henry." He flashed a reassuring smile. "It was the French King who offered to marry Anne. Thus, he will feel responsibility for her. If she gets pregnant and bears a child for him, he will be very happy, even if it is a daughter. He doesn't consider daughters to be useless."

Lady Elizabeth only shook her head, either in agreement or in confusion. "I hope so." Then she smiled. "But if Anne bears a son for King François, it will be outstanding."

"And tantalizing for King Henry," Thomas added. A wry grin crossed his lips. "He has few healthy children. Maybe the problems were not with the women whom he married, but with him."

Their eyes locked, and they smiled at each other.

* * *

_**September 2, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

The warm rays of the early afternoon sun illuminated the whole room as Anne came inside her bedchamber. Feeling nausea attacking her again, she made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. She shut her eyes for a moment, expecting nausea to recede. In a minute, she opened her eyes. It happened very often with her in the past days.

Her gaze drifted across the room and stopped on the marble table near the window. A collection of magnificent jewels was laid out meticulously on a strip of dark blue velvet for her selection: a diamond, sapphire and emerald choker, several pearl necklaces, several sapphire necklaces and matching bracelets, and a cabochon ruby necklace. Together it was an overwhelming selection. She fingered the cabochon rubies and the strikingly blue sapphires. Henry made her many gifts, and she used to have an impressive collection of English jewelry, but they were far less exquisite than these new gifts were. François had excellent taste. Nearby the jewelry sets there were yards of fabric: golden brocade edged with silver, royal blue silk woven with gold, lavender silk edged in silver, and extravagant black and ivory velvet. She realized that fabrics had been left in her room to allow her to choose the material for her new gowns. It seemed that François meant to spoil her with these gifts. Why did he spend so much money on her when their marriage was kept in secret?

But Anne couldn't think of his gifts at that moment. Now her life was changing beyond her belief and beyond her control if she was indeed carrying François' child. Her morning sickness and nausea confirmed that her suspicions weren't groundless. In the past months, Anne desperately tried to carve out her new life-death-rebirth path in the new life and to feel just a little bit less of the pain that loss of her children and Henry's betrayal had brought to her. She didn't think that she could have conceived so quickly after her difficult pregnancy with her son Arthur. Yet, more than half a year passed since her labor, so it wasn't really dangerous to conceive a child again. If somebody had told Anne this story a year ago, she would have laughed and called it a fairy tale. Anne decided to wait for a while longer before consulting with the midwife.

Jane Seymour's child occupied a large place in Anne's thoughts. Anne often speculated whether Jane Seymour would succeed where she had failed during the time when Henry had been feeling passion and, possibly, love for her. Anne would love to wish to Jane to have a miscarriage like she had when she witnessed Jane sitting on Henry's lap and kissing him and when she had a miscarriage in the aftermath; however, Anne couldn't wish it upon Jane. She admitted to herself that she had hated Jane Seymour with all her heart, but she didn't want cruel death for Jane, which could possibly follow her failure to produce a male heir as Henry may try to get rid of her.

To distract herself from her thoughts, Anne took the oval cut emerald necklace, climbed to her feet and went to the mirror. She clasped the necklace around her neck. Then she stood for what felt a long time admiring herself in the gold-framed looking glass set out on her dressing table. It was wonderful because the reflection she saw seemed to transform her into something almost regal. Yes, she was the Queen again, even if the mysterious Queen for some time.

Then Anne remarked in the mirror that François entered the room and moved in her direction. She chuckled as she noticed that their clothes were matching today. He was dressed in the rich velvet doublet of dark blue silk and brown velvet, slashed with gold, while his Venetian pants were dark blue with some hues of brown. Anne's French gown with the low-cut neckline was made of dark blue and brown brocade woven with gold. François stopped behind Anne and embraced her, his strong arm circling her waist. Now they were both looking into the mirror at themselves. Anne again noticed how tall François was as he stood behind her.

François smiled at her. "Your Majesty's beauty this afternoon is unequaled," he said all too smoothly, offering a sort of flattery as he teased her.

Anne bit her smiling lips together, imprisoning her laugh. She liked when he teased her. "Your Majesty is flattering me."

François' smile turned broader. "No, I am just stating the truth." He looked at her in the mirror, admiring her reflection. "You look a little pale," he stated with concern.

Anne indeed looked pale during the last days, which was attributable to her delicate condition. "I am alright, Your Majesty."

"If you need something, ask Monsieur Jean. He has an excellent physician. If we were in France, you would have a team of great physicians at your disposal. I am sorry that it is not available here."

"I am fine," she answered. In the mirror she saw that he also smiled at her.

"Anne, please wait a minute here. Please don't move."

Anne was bewildered. "Yes, Your Majesty."

François moved to the other part of the bedchamber. He pulled out the drawer of Italian bureau and extracted something glittering from there. Then he walked back to Anne and stood rooted near her. He placed a magnificent glittering coronet of sapphires and rubies on her head. It wasn't the crown, as she was uncrowned yet, but it a small imitation of it, stressing her regal position as the Queen of France.

"I hope you will like it," the King said. "I am pleased with what I see now."

Anne looked in the mirror, and the blue eyes met the amber eyes. The amber eyes were dancing with sparkles of fire, and the blue eyes were studying her reflection in the mirror. "I assure Your Majesty, your pleasure follows my own pleasure closely," she said teasingly.

François smiled, showing his white, even teeth. He touched a strand of her raven hair then, as if not quite believing she was real. "I thought that as long as you haven't been crowned, you should have something similar to the crown," he supplied. "You should also choose the fabric for your new gowns." He wanted to take care of her and to please her. It was an involuntary instinct for him.

Anne smiled with a sincere smile, a much warmer smile than her usual smile in the past months. François was too caring towards her wishes. And he was correct that she wanted a diadem or a coronet. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said.

* * *

_**September 7, 1537, Woodstock Manor, Oxfordshire, England**_

Today was the birthday of Elizabeth Tudor. She turned four years old. She was alone again. She was still in the same place where she was brought many months ago at the order of her own father, _King Henry VIII of England_. Her ladies and her strict governess Lady Margaret Bryan congratulated her with her birthday with dry words. There were no many gifts for Elizabeth on that birthday like she used to have when she lived with her mother and her father at the court or when they visited her at _the Hatfield Palace_ in Hertfordshire. The same happened on the last birthday when she was alone during the whole day and finally her half-sister Mary came to visit her.

Throughout more than a year, Elizabeth often heard how her ladies whispered that she was a usual bastard and that the King didn't wish to see his own daughter. Elizabeth didn't know what a bastard meant because nobody explained it to her, but at those moments she was angry at her father that he had abandoned her. On her birthday she also heard how one of her ladies said that she was a bastard who would never come back to the court. As she heard that, Elizabeth wanted to cry. She was on the verge of emotional breakdown. She was beating her tears off with all her strengths in her small heart. With a will of iron, Elizabeth forced herself to calm down. She won't cry in front of other people. She didn't wish to show her weakness to her ladies and especially to Lady Bryan who often scolded her.

Elizabeth remembered her birthday from the seemingly distant past when her father and her mother were playing with her and when she had a grand celebration at the palace. She was granted many pretty gowns and other presents. Everybody treated her with respect, dignity, and charisma. Now everything was so strange around Elizabeth. Everything changed so considerably. The child often asked herself and God whether there was any way back to happy life, but her questions were not answered. Elizabeth often prayed that her mother Anne would come to her and take her in the warm, loving arms, but her prayers remained unanswered. She missed her mother very much, but now she rarely asked where her mother was in order not to hear that her mother wasn't a part of the world anymore.

Near the midday Lady Bryan told Elizabeth that her half-sister Lady Mary Tudor was waiting for her downstairs. As the child heard that, she ran down the staircase to Lady Mary, ignoring all the royal protocols and strict norms of behavior she was taught to follow. Near the staircase Elizabeth paused as she saw Lady Mary. The little girl smiled as smiling Mary opened her hands to hug Elizabeth. The girl ran to Mary, right into her warm embrace.

Elizabeth giggled. "Mary, I was waiting for you! I missed you!" she cried out.

Mary hugged Elizabeth. "I also missed you, my dear sister." Mary pulled away and opened her purse. She extracted the small sapphire necklace from there, matching the color of Elizabeth's eyes, and handed it to Elizabeth. "Happy birthday, Elizabeth," she congratulated warmly.

Elizabeth's tiny fingers squeezed the necklace. The girl was beaming. "Mary, I love it so much! Thank you!" Elizabeth kissed Mary on her right cheek. It wasn't difficult for the child because Mary was knelt down to the girl. "Mary, I love you," she girl professed.

Mary took in Elizabeth's image and noticed that the girl had significantly grown up. Her hair turned more reddish golden, while her height increased considerably. Her eyes still expressed the same energetic, vivacious spirit as it had always been for the girl. Yet, her gaze was more cautious and more watching as in the past year she was accustomed to living in completely different environment she still struggled to accept and adapt to. Elizabeth had the eyes of her mother Anne Boleyn – startlingly blue almond-shaped eyes with a direct gaze. The girl was graceful and exquisite. Intelligence was written on her face. At the same time, Mary couldn't help but notice that the girl's face, her posture, and her demeanor revealed her strong will and undeniable independence, the traits which earlier weren't so distinguishable in the child. Elizabeth was a unique girl with an allegation of qualities from both her mother, the Harlot in Mary's opinion, and her father, the King of England.

Mary smiled with fondness and appreciation at the little girl. She loved Elizabeth, despite the fact that she was Anne Boleyn's daughter. "I love you too, Elizabeth. I promise you that your new stepmother, Her Majesty Queen Jane, and I will do everything possible to return you to the court."

Lady Mary also bought a multitude of new pretty gowns for Elizabeth, as well as dolls and other toys. She knew that her father King Henry had limited expenses on the little girl, and thus in the last months Queen Jane and Lady Mary were supporting Elizabeth financially. Mary was confused when she learnt that Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, also contributed some money on behalf of Elizabeth from Thomas Boleyn, the girl's grandfather. Even though she hated Thomas Boleyn and also considered him to be a traitor, Mary could understand him, however, because Elizabeth was after all his granddaughter.

* * *

_**September 7, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

Today was the birthday of Anne's daughter Elizabeth. When she got up in the morning and saw that François had already been gone, a strong wave of sobs overcame her. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help herself. Tears were streaming down her face on their own. She gripped in her hands the stunning small single strand of pearls with gold "E" pendant hanging from the center, and three tear-drop pearls suspended from under the letter "E". It was a gift for her dear Elizabeth, but she wouldn't be able to give it to her. That strand of pearls was similar to the infamous Boleyn necklace with gold "B" pendant which she was wearing when she was herself in England. Anne ordered the necklace of the same design for Elizabeth from Venetian goldsmith, and he brought it to her yesterday. Anne guessed that her dear daughter Elizabeth was most likely alone on her birthday. She knew that Henry wouldn't meet Elizabeth on her birthday. Anne hoped that at least Lady Mary Tudor would visit her dear girl.

Henry Percy wrote that Elizabeth had still lived at Woodstock Manor, banished from the court and exiled from her father's eyes. Henry also mentioned that he managed to learn that Queen Jane Seymour and Lady Mary Tudor planned to bring Elizabeth back to the court on Christmas, after the birth of Jane's child. Anne smiled in her mind at that possibility and silently thanked Henry Percy for all his help.

On that day, Anne woke up with terrible morning sickness. Because of nausea and sickness, she couldn't leave her bedchamber for quite some time. As the morning sickness subsided, she asked her maids to bring breakfast into her bedroom. During the last week of August, she started feeling constant morning sickness, at first only recurring from time to time and later becoming her daily companion. She felt dizziness and nausea, while her standard eating habits turned stomach-churning. Anne also remembered how unwell she felt every time when she and François were sailing across the canals in a gondola. At first, she thought that she had nausea on a gondola because of the rolling in the water. In addition, she also desperately craved for green apples. She had her suspicions that she probably was in a family way, but she tried to put that thought aside. If it was so, it meant that she conceived right in the beginning of their marriage, and somehow she ignored or wanted to ignore that possibility. However, her suspicions returned today. She knew that she needed a confirmation of a professional.

When she finally forced herself to go downstairs, Anne made her way to the living room and found her "grandfather" _Count Jean de Montreuil_ in the huge library. Anne had to ask for help because she needed a midwife and a physician to examine her. Today, she realized that she could no longer have ignored the reason of her sickness – she was very likely to be pregnant. However, she didn't want to let the whole household know about the matter. As they had to keep their marriage in secret for a while, it was a little strange for many servants and her maids that the King of France and Anne were often sleeping in the same bedchamber. François made sure that nobody of the servants would ever open a mouth to gossip about their current arrangement. Anyway, Anne still felt the awkwardness of the situation.

Monsieur Jean immediately fetched the midwife and the physician. After an elaborate examination, they confirmed that Anne was with child. The midwife said that she was a little less than two months along in her pregnancy. They only confirmed Anne's suspicions that she had conceived in the first days of their wedding, if not right on the wedding night.

Now when Anne knew for sure that she was pregnant, she was very confused. She didn't love the father of her child. She liked François as a friend and a companion and an ally. Should she be overjoyed now? Or should she feel that she betrayed Henry as she got pregnant by another man, all the more his enemy, the powerful King of France? Or should she feel that she took a small revenge on her former royal husband who fathered a child with the whore Jane Seymour? She was confused. Yet, Anne was constantly longing for her children whom she had to leave in England because of Henry's madness and his cruelty. Her son Arthur would be one year in November, and she even didn't have a single opportunity to meet him in the nearest future. She also couldn't meet Elizabeth and congratulate her with her birthday. At the same time, soon she could have her own child in her arms, and that thought filled her cold, frozen heart with some warmth and light hope. She would love this child as much as she loved her other children – Elizabeth and Arthur. It was her child, her flesh and blood, even if it was fathered by another man, not King Henry. It was probably selfish and even childish from her side, but Anne also felt that her new child was a part of her revenge on Henry for his cruelty and betrayal, a shadow of her future revenge on him.

Monsieur Jean was delighted with the news. "Anne, you should tell His Majesty King François about your condition today," he advised with a smile. "His Majesty will be very pleased with the news."

A stiff smile settled on Anne's face. "Grandfather, I hope so."

Jean shook his head in positive response. "I assure you that His Majesty will be extremely happy. In the past two years King François lost his eldest son Dauphin François and his favorite daughter Madeleine, Queen Consort of Scotland. He will be happy to have more children."

Anne couldn't contradict Jean. Nevertheless she felt uneasy. Her tongue tripped, her thoughts were rambling and incomplete. But she knew that she had to tell François. He was her husband and had the right to know. "I will tell His Majesty very soon," she pledged.

"Do it sooner than later." Jean smiled at Anne with paternal attention and concern. "You know that His Majesty is leaving for Piedmont soon."

"I know, grandfather," Anne answered.

Anne was convinced that François loved all his children wholeheartedly. She also knew that the deaths of Dauphin François and Princess Madeleine left hard-to-heal scars on his heart. Their recent conversation about the painting _Madonna and Child_ by _Giovanni Bellini_ touched a string in Anne's heart, and she thought that François would be indeed very happy with the news. Suddenly, Anne felt as though the child she was carrying was sent to them to help them to lick their wounds and heal from the loss of their children. She and François had one tragic thing in common – they both lost their children. François' children died when they were old enough, while Anne had two miscarriages and was estranged from her two beloved children. In the meantime, Anne was afraid of her current pregnancy. If she had a miscarriage once, she could have another miscarriage. She feared that if it happened to her again, she wouldn't survive through it – it would be too painful to lose another child.

* * *

_**Night of September 7, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

During the whole evening, François was watching his wife with an intensive gaze and with a pounding heart He knew that today was Elizabeth Tudor's birthday and that Anne was suffering at the thought that her girl was so neglected in England. Anne was very much on his mind at the time when they had the private celebration at the dinner. He wanted to help Anne, but he knew that they couldn't rush their plan of Cromwell's downfall. They didn't have any right for any mistake.

Instead, he decided to make a surprise for Anne. As they entered the bedchamber with the midnight blue walls, Anne stopped rooted. She was stunned with what she saw around them: roses and lilies were falling on the floor across the entire room somewhere from a ceiling. Witnessing the flower waterfall from the doorway was magnificent, especially amid one wall covered with rich tapestries of pastoral scenes and another wall decorated with many Renaissance frescoes. Anne was smiling in _con agitazione _manner and finally broke into a melodic, sincere laugh. The flower waterfall continued for several minutes, and finally the entire floor, the furniture, and the bed were flooded with rose leaves and lily leaves. It seemed as though Anne and François had been swallowed by the flower dreamland.

Anne chuckled at the symbolism of the flower spectacle. She knew that lilies had a great mythological meaning. In the ancient Near East, the lily was associated with Ishtar, also known as Astarte, who was a Goddess of creation and fertility as well as a virgin. In later times, Christians adopted the lily as the symbol of Virgin Mary who became the mother of Jesus while still a virgin. For the ancient Romans, roses were a symbol of beauty and the flower of Venus. The Romans also saw roses as a symbol of death and rebirth, and thus they often planted them on graves. Roses for rebirth of Anne Boleyn and lilies for Anne Boleyn's new child, Anne mused. How romantic and symbolical it was, she mused. François astonished her once again, and she liked that. Did François know about her delicate condition? Or did he guess it? Or was it a random coincidence?

Anne smiled, her blue eyes beaming with a chilly, prudent gladness. She laughed for quite some time along with François. François saw the sparkles of joy and merriment in her eyes. Still, those sparkles were muted and not as bright as those in the eyes of the old Anne Boleyn. He felt that his heart was swelling with nostalgia for the old Anne. Why was he so interested in making Anne happy and in bringing her back to normal life?

Anne smiled, her eyes wide and innocent. "Your Majesty, I didn't expect that. Why did you choose roses and lilies?" she asked curiously.

François grinned at her. "Anne, roses are the same as rebirth for the ancient Romans. Lilies are the sign of something pure," he responded.

Anne laughed. "I knew the meaning of these flowers. I still remember some mythology. You just confirmed my thoughts."

François took her hands into his own, and their fingers entwined. "It is so pleasant to have such an intelligent lady as my Queen."

Anne was amazed how romantic François could behave. If it wasn't for her dreadful, excruciating experience with Henry in the past, she would have easily fallen for the French King. He was a handsome man, a capable charmer and a skillful seducer, as many French men were. Yet, there was something strange in their relations, and both Anne and François felt that. Maybe they didn't know what it was. Even though François was protective of her and was often romantic, Anne didn't allow her heart to open for new feelings as she couldn't be absent-minded and easy-going anymore. She had to control what she felt and for whom, urging herself that an idealized notion of romantic element could actually turn into the biggest enemy of long-lasting, complicated relationships, like she and François had. She loved Henry and was betrayed – she couldn't allow being betrayed and humiliated by another powerful monarch again. She wanted her revenge on Henry and presumed that her heart would stay locked for all romances till her dying day. She still loved Henry and hated him with all her heart. It was a strange combination of feelings, wasn't it?

François also had a special gift for Anne – the magnificent jewelry set with four components, made up of large high quality oval cut blue sapphires and numerous diamonds. The set consisted of the necklace, the bracelet, the pair of earrings, and the ring. She especially liked the necklace, which consisted of ten large oval cut blue sapphires of very high quality, each sapphire surrounded by two rows of glittering diamonds.

Anne flashed a bewitching, slow smile. This smile was closer to the old smiles of the old Anne Boleyn, and François noted that. "Your Majesty, you are doing wonders. I absolutely love it."

The King of France accurately fastened the bracelet on her right hand. Then he took the necklace. As Anne bent her head, he clasped the necklace on her slender neck.

Anne liked the jewelry set. "How does it look?"

"Perfect," the King said with a dazzling smile as his amber eyes were studying every inch of Anne. "I have chosen the sapphires because they match the color of your beautiful eyes."

Anne was lost for a moment. She didn't expect to hear it from her husband. Why was François telling her that her eyes were beautiful? Did he care for her? Their marriage was a political deal and she was his political tool, while he was her tool to clear her name in England, she reminded herself. Yet, she truly enjoyed the current dynamics between them. A thought that another man, not only Henry, liked her as a woman made Anne feel more confident, giving her a sweet sensation that she was taking her revenge on King Henry. Simultaneously her mind urged and warned her to be careful and not to completely trust the King of France.

Anne smiled with a tremulous smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she purred. She was a little embarrassed.

While preparing for bed, they were talking about the future. François told Anne that soon he would leave her in the city of Venice with Count Jean de Montreuil and Jacques de la Brosse and that he would come back to Piedmont and Lombardy to his army. Baron Anne de Montmorency, Marshal of France, sent to the King of France many notes that they had needed him in Piedmont. As the Franco-Venetian alliance was established and the treaty was signed, François was free to travel to Turin. He promised that they would regularly keep in touch after his departure.

They were standing near the bed. François hugged Anne and kissed her on her forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the moment of their proximity together. François was happy that he managed to elevate Anne's mood on the day when she was very sad because of her daughter's birthday which Anne cannot attend. But why was he so happy that she felt much better? Did he feel a pure concern for her?

Anne stared up at him, her eyes twinkling as though in mystification. "I am developing a special craving for apples," she confessed. She felt the same when she was pregnant with Elizabeth.

François arched a brow. "Apples?" He feigned that he had understood nothing. He had already noticed Anne's morning sickness and nausea, but he didn't dare to ask her. He only accurately suggested that she needed to consult a physician. He waited that she would tell him by herself.

A timid smile curved her lips. "Your Majesty, I am with child. The midwife and the physician confirmed this today." She wanted that child. She already loved him or her wholeheartedly because it was her child.

François looked at her, his face alight with gladness. He had three living legitimate children, but he had also lost four of them – two girls in their early childhood and two children in the last two years. Besides, one of his illegitimate children died several years ago. Overwhelming happiness slashed through him at a thought that he would be a father again. After Queen Claude of France's death, François had always wished to have more legitimate children, but he couldn't because he didn't consummate his marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_, the Emperor's sister. When he had felt wild passion or love for Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes – now he didn't' know what it was – and slept with her throughout many years, he had hoped that she would give him a child, but it hadn't happened. Despite being a passionate man with quite a rich collection of amorous conquests, François didn't have many illegitimate children, the majority of whom were born many years ago. Now when he had a chance to have another legitimate child, he was incredibly elated with the news. He was sure that children with Anne would be unique, like Anne herself.

François placed a tender kiss on her forehead and on her right temple. His heart was blossoming. "Anne, I am very happy to hear this great news," he whispered into her ear.

Anne was keeping silent, as though she had stepped on the land of confusion and doubtfulness. She still wasn't sure that François was happy to have children exactly with her. "I am happy too," she murmured half consciously. Indeed, her new child was a blessing for Anne. This child would make her life happier in the darkness that enveloped her many months ago.

François sighed. Being a man with great observational skills, he quickly realized that she was half embarrassed and half frightened to confess to him about her condition. "Anne, please don't worry. I will do everything to protect you and to ensure that you and the child are safe," he said quietly.

Anne turned her eyes to his face, her gaze impenetrable and bleak. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she murmured with relief in her tone.

François kissed Anne on her forehead, his right hand tenderly stroking her belly where the child was growing inside her. He felt that she had doubts about his attitude to her condition. "Don't doubt that I want to have a child with you," he assured. "I want this child," he said firmly.

"Thank you," she repeated. She didn't know what else she could say. She was grateful to François for his attention and reassurance.

The long amethyst-framed mirror on the wall reflected their image standing in front of each other. Anne placed her hands around her waist, as if to insure that she still had her figure. François bent his head and kissed Anne in her lips. He kissed her because he wished to make her smile. He wanted to share his happiness that she was carrying his child. He kissed her because he was dreaming about that every day when he left her in the morning and later returned from the meetings with his ministers and courtiers. He kissed her because he wanted her. Then he lifted her and accurately put her on the enormous bed, among rose leaves and lily leaves.

When they were undressed, François kissed her softly in her lips. His lips were everywhere – on her cheeks, her brows, her earlobes, her forehead, and her neck. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm and her fingertips, and then his lips returned to her lips. His mouth was exploring her body up and down, then again up and down. His caresses awakened a host of divine sensations in her body, and she wasn't positive she wanted to feel that, fighting against the overpowering tide of physical desire for François as that desire blotted out every other emotion, except the insidious demand of physical need. She was fighting against her sensations because King François was not King Henry. Anne didn't want to confess to herself that she wanted François at that moment, even if he wasn't Henry.

"Anne, please relax and let me give you pleasure," François murmured into her lips, feeling that her body was slightly tensed under his lips and arms. He was also experiencing a pang of jealousy, thinking that she was probably thinking about Henry, comparing two Kings. "There are only you and me here, and I want us to enjoy this moment."

"I am relaxed, and we are alone here," Anne whispered, not knowing what else to answer.

He smiled at her, although in reality he wished to reproach her for her constant thoughts about her past and King Henry. He hated that illusionary rivalry with Henry. "You are lying, and I know this. Forget about the past as I am offering you a sort of excellent shelter for this night." Wishing her simply to feel and not to think, his lips took hers in a deep, desperate kiss. Then desperation was supplanted by tenderness, which made her think that she would faint from giddiness.

His words sent a quiver of excitement and appeasement through her veins, and she delightfully responded to his kiss. His tongue plunged hotly over and over again between her parted lips, sensuously exploring its inner warmth. At last, under an effect of his slow, tender, silken caresses and soft, tender, lingering kisses, she felt her blood simmering with desire, and, dizzy and unable to think clearly, her arms crept around his neck as she lost the battle with herself. She realized giddily that she wanted to be in his arms at that second. She went into his embrace eagerly, her bosom pressed under his broad chest. His caressing hands were worshiping each and every inch of her body. There was a lingering, canorous tenderness and softness, melodiousness and lyricism in his endearments. It was as though François had tried to melt her down, trying his own heat and warmness to be reverberated in her body. The innate tenderness and certain affection were simmering between them, like a light cherishing breeze caressing their flesh and their hearts.

When François finally entered her, Anne was so relaxed that she barely felt his smooth thrust into her. They kissed, their tongues tangled in a duet as old as the world itself. François looked into her eyes and smiled. Anne noticed that something glistened in his eyes, but she didn't want to think what it was. As her lips parted beneath his, he felt her breath under his mouth and enjoyed feeling her chest under his hands. His hands came to her side, clasping her waist. His movements were very slow and exceedingly careful, demonstrating his tenderness and amenity. He kissed her and then broke it, closing his eyes. As he opened them, Anne dazedly stared up at his handsome face above her, her blue eyes smoky and mysterious in the dim light of the candles. She entangled her fingers into his chestnut hair and kissed him in his lips. As it was always during their intimacy, pleasure was rolling up to Anne at a slow speed, assaulting when she didn't expect that. Soon dizziness completely overcame her under the onslaught of drawling pleasure; her blood simmered, and the plangent, sharp wave of pleasure swept through her body. She groaned, and he crushed his lips on hers, absorbing her cry. As it was over, François embraced her and buried his face in her long loosen hair.

François and Anne were lying in each other's arms. Their eyes were shut, his hand placed on her flat stomach. Her head was on his bare chest, and she felt his smooth breathing. François was awake, enjoying peaceful environment and temporary paradise around him. Anne didn't know that François experienced fierce, wild passion and desire that nearly drove him to a verge of his sanity, but he repressed them and followed his old approach to their lovemaking. He was so happy that she was carrying his child and he wanted her urgently and violently, but he couldn't risk making her feel uncomfortable with him. In addition, he had to be very careful due to her delicate condition. He was interested in whether she again compared him with Henry during that night. He was sure that Henry had never behaved so with Anne in the bed. Then he decided that he was thinking about foolish things as he compared himself with his English rival. He silently laughed at himself, and his thoughts returned to Anne. It was a magic night for the King of France because he saw something that he didn't feel before: it seemed that Anne began to trust him and was more or less comfortable with the idea of having him as a lover, even if she didn't love him. François also didn't love her, so that he was just delighted that they began to understand and trust each other. They were political allies, and he also wished to become her closest friend. That was enough at that point, he inferred. Yet, any thought that Anne had been with Henry in the same bed in the past and that she had felt passion for Henry sent François into silent outrage and madness. He also couldn't imagine her in the bed with any other man, excluding himself. He wanted her only for himself. He didn't know whether it was jealousy or a primitive feeling of possession. Maybe he felt a combination of possession and jealousy, but it was not clear which feeling was stronger. François again laughed at himself.

François had many mistresses in the past, and the majority of his scandalous and notorious amorous escapades happened in his early youth. At that time, he could have spent one night with several mistresses, summoning them to his suite during the same night. His private life had been full of amorous conquests long before his marriage to Queen Claude of France, and he had even managed to sire several bastards before he ascended the throne of France. In the early 1513, François began his liaison with the beautiful and young _Jacquette Andron de Lansac_, the daughter of the rich knight and merchant from Bordeaux. Jacquette became pregnant, bearing François' son named Louis and referred to as _Louis de Sant-Gelais, seigneur de Lansac and de Précy-sur-Oise, Baron de la Mothe Saint-Héray_; he didn't officially acknowledge the boy because the child was born in 1514, before his kingship, and because Jacquette Andron didn't want that. There also was _Françoise de Pérusse d'Escars_ who had given birth to his daughter whom he officially claimed as _Jacquette de Lansac de Valois-Orléans-Angoulême_ and who died in 1533 in childbirth. In 1512, he had a love affair with _Jeanne Le Cocq, Dame de La Commune-en-Brie._

When he married Claude de Valois, the future Queen Claude of France, in May 1514, François continued the same lifestyle. When he succeeded _King Louis XII _in January 1515, he completely submitted to lustful dreams, being continually inclined to more and more amours. His infidelity to Queen Claude wasn't limited to the periods when his wife was pregnant as he almost invariably strayed all the times. François wasn't a shining example of a proper husband ensuring his wife's concordant wedlock. It was the great scandal in Europe when François introduced the position of _maîtresse en titre_ which didn't exist at the French court and at any other European court until 1518, becoming an inventor of the new official title for royal courtesans and thus legitimizing the possible infidelity to a Queen. _Françoise de Foix, Countess de Châteaubriant_, was the King's first _maîtresse en titre_; she had a daughter with her lover, the girl officially acknowledged by François as _Anne de Valois-Orléans-Angoulême_, but the girl died in infancy after having caught severe cold. Among his short-lived old affairs, there was Anne's elder sister Mary Boleyn, and at present François regretted about their amourette when he had taken Mary's innocence and then brutally discarded her. François' reputation of the notorious libertine had its roots in its early youth. There was time when some people said that King François had given his mind to four notorious vices – lechery, luxury, war, and adultery, but it, of course, was a kind of embellishment. Despite the King's lifestyle, all the courtiers agreed that the King of France tried to conduct his affairs quite discreetly in order not to offend his wife, and it was much appreciated by Queen Claude herself who kept her eyes shut at her husband's infidelities.

_Marie Gaudin la Belle Babou, Dame de La Bourdaisière_, known as one of the most beautiful and the most notorious women of her time, was taken by François in his bed in the early 1520s, before his captivity at Pavia. Then the King broke their relations, but at the beginning of the 1530s they again became friends and occasional lovers. Although she wasn't François' _maîtresse en titre_, Marie Gaudin was the King's premier mistress because of the frequency of their encounters and because of the scandals caused by her husband Philibert Babou who at first fiercely objected to her relationship with the King and publicly threw at his wife the tantrums of violent jealousy. Finally, Philibert reconciled with his wife's role when he was appointed the minister of finance, Mayor of Tours in 1520, and treasurer in 1523. Marie served as the maid of honor to Queen Claude of France and later to _Eleanor of Austria_, was François' old mistress.

Several years ago, at the beginning of the 1530s, François also had intimate and friendly relations with _Jacqueline de la Trémoille, Countess de Sanverre_, and even fathered one child with her, his only illegitimate daughter starting from the second half of the 1520s, but he didn't claim that child for whatever reason. If the fire flared up in his heart, he chose new lovers from beautiful belles at the court and then discarded them when he was tired of them. He had especially many short-term paramours, and some of them gave birth to his children. It was also likely that he had sired other illegitimate children as a result of short-term affairs, not knowing about that.

François was not always faithful to his two official _maîtresses en titre_ – _Françoise de Foix, Countess de Châteaubriant_, and later to _Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes_, who changed_ François de Foix_ and became the King's grand favorite. Although in the past several years he shared his bed only with Anne de Pisseleu, at the beginning of their relationship François used to spend much time with his other mistresses, especially with Marie Gaudin, Jacqueline de la Trémoille, and his other mistresses. However, several years ago François realized that he craved for constant relations with Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess d'Étampes. He also matured and wanted permanence in sensual relations, not a constant flickering of various mistresses in his bed. The variety of women no longer interested him. As a result, François became relatively faithful to Duchess d'Étampes and at times even pretended that he hadn't known about her occasional infidelities. He knew that she had loved him and thought that she would be faithful to him once she would learn that he had abandoned all other mistresses.

The only exception when the King of France was unfaithful to Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly in the past several years was _his wantonly passionate and rather short amourette with the young, pretty, and carefree__ Claude de Rohan-Gie, Countess de Thoury_, which started between 1535 and 1536. Claude slipped under the King's bedcovers with great pleasure, but although she was very young, she was an experienced woman and François didn't take her maidenhead. François quickly discarded Claude de Rohan-Gie and again became faithful to Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly.

Unfortunately, the King of France was mistaken because Duchess d'Étampes had continued her highly secret love escapades with _Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion_. Only later she ceased her affair with Chabot due to her fear that François would possibly learn the truth. François could have forgiven Anne de Pisseleu an amourette with any man, except an affair with Cardinal François de Tournon, Anne de Montmorency, or Philippe de Chabot. They were people who had the French King's greatest favor, and Anne de Pisseleu knew that if François had known about her relations with Chabot, he would have ruined her and Chabot's lives, sending them into exile. The paradox of the situation was that Anne de Pisseleu had truly loved François while François had felt only a wild passion for her, which had almost entirely evaporated by now.

Currently, François wanted to be only with one woman – with Anne Boleyn, his wife. A sudden thought struck him: he didn't have such strong feelings of possession and jealousy for any of his mistresses, even for Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly. It was quite a remarkable discovery for him, and. he was puzzled with his own feelings and desires.

While François was silently overloaded with musings, the same happened to Anne. A whirlpool of thoughts blew through her mind. She was again comparing François and Henry. She knew that their characters were very different. Yet, she was amazed with one thing. Henry was a very passionate man by nature, and her marital bed with him was a battlefield of emotions. François was a Frenchman, a skillful lover and a womanizer, and he had to be a passionate man, she thought. When Anne and her sister Lady Mary Boleyn Stafford were on good terms, they often gossiped about the events at the court and in the private lives of each other. Anne remembered that Mary, François' former mistress, had told her that François had been a man who was so skillful in the art of physical love that he could have made any lady melt and tremble in his arms even if she hadn't wanted to sleep with him. Mary assured Anne that François had loved a creative, passionate lovemaking. Mary even mentioned that he read poems to her in the bed when passion overcame him. But Anne didn't see François' passion: he treated her with such tenderness and gentleness that she indeed melted in his arms, even if she didn't love him. Where was his passion? Did François control his emotions so well? Was his passion hidden? Anne mused why he did that. Didn't he want to scare her or to make her uncomfortable? She concluded that it had most likely been the reason, and she was immensely grateful to him for this.

Anne didn't notice how she started comparing the sensations François and Henry gave her. She always compared François and Henry. François was tender and soft during their intimacy, and she enjoyed their lovemaking, but her sensations became acute as she relaxed and then felt how a tide of dark oblivion was gradually capturing her at a slow speed, but the physical release was lingering and prolonged. Again, it was opposite to her sensations with King Henry in the bed when she felt explosion of passion and wild pleasure that flared up, flickered and burnt, then flickered again and everything repeated in the same cycle. François' gentleness mesmerized and astonished Anne. Anne's another former lover, _Sir Thomas Wyatt_, the poet and the courtier at King Henry's court, also was an epitome of passion in the privacy of the bedchamber, and she couldn't imagine him being immensely gentle in the bed. François was very different from Henry and from Thomas Wyatt, even if both François and Wyatt were poetical and romantic men.

Anne's affair with Thomas Wyatt had started after her betrothal to Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, had been broken and before she fell in love with King Henry. Thomas Wyatt charmed and seduced Anne by writing many love poems in her honor and by engaging her into courtly love in England, demonstrating that the concept of courtly love as an integral element in chivalry was central not only at the French court, but was also related to the life of the Tudor court. When Wyatt was courting Anne, she was grieving for the loss of Henry Percy; she missed her life in France and was feeling vulnerable in England. Temped by Wyatt's colossal attention and sentimental romantics, she eventually hoisted the white flag and succumbed to her passion in the sudden outburst of her willingness for experiment in the art of physical love which she hadn't been experienced before. Unlike her sister Mary, Anne didn't have any liaisons at the French court, although she had a plenty of admirers and worshipers in France even at her very young age.

When Anne fell in love with King Henry and realized that Henry had wanted to make her the Queen of England, she wholeheartedly repented that she had that short amourette with Thomas Wyatt. The reason was that he had taken her innocence and later she had to lie to Henry, opposing his proposal to become his _maîtresse en titre_ and deliberately asserting that her maidenhead had already been pledged to her future husband. Anne was lucky that she had been able to hide the absence of her innocence from Henry because they had the first complete intercourse in the thick and green forest, on the bare ground, on the day after Wolsey's death when they alone left the palace and rode to the forest. Their need for each other was so urgent and so desperate that they removed some of their clothes and fell on the ground, whirling in the dance of wild passion and raw desire. It was easy for Anne to say that she had lost her virginity in the forest as their copulation was quick and as Henry left her alone with loud cries of displeasure and exclamations of anger after Anne had requested him to be careful in order not to impregnate her. Later, Henry couldn't have checked whether there was any blood during their first encounter, and it was implicitly assumed between Anne and Henry that he had taken her virginity in the forest.

That lie was a vile act of undeniable hypocrisy and sheer artifice from her side, but Anne had to lie because otherwise Henry wouldn't have fallen in love with her and because she wouldn't have been able to refuse to have the full sexual intercourse with the King for such a long time, heating his passion for her and prolonging his interest in her. It was her only lie about her personal life to Henry, and she was always faithful to him afterwards. She didn't repent that she had lied because she loved Henry with all her heart, but she regretted that she had an affair with Wyatt as it posed her in potential danger if the truth about her relationship with the poet was ever discovered.

As she remembered Thomas Wyatt, Anne inwardly flinched because her affair with him was a grave secret. There were much gossip circulating around Anne and Wyatt at the English court, undermining Anne's reputation. Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, told Henry that Anne and Wyatt had been lovers, hinting that she had deceived the King about her virginity. Of course, Anne laughed when Henry enlightened her about Suffolk's warning, requesting Henry to punish Brandon and banish him from the court. Since then, Anne was particularly afraid that somebody else would find enough evidence to implement the incriminating campaign against Anne. Like she was afraid that King Henry would ever learn about her secret, at present she was alarmed that François might become aware about her secret and would judge her. She didn't need François to stop trusting her. Sighing deeply, Anne quickly put those thoughts aside. Thomas Wyatt was her past, and he would never speak about their relations. She shouldn't be worried about that, she said to herself.

Anne felt how François tighter pressed her to himself, distracting her from her thoughts. He was kissing her raven curls, his left hand tenderly stroking her belly. "Anne, how are you feeling?"

"I am feeling alright," she replied.

He looked at her, his breathing slightly labored, his amber eyes bright. Then he dropped a soft kiss on her lips. "Please try to sleep. It was a long day." His voice was thick with concern. "Don't think about frustrating things. I promise you that you will finally meet your daughter. Now we can only wait," he said in a persuasive tone.

Anne stared at him, her eyes huge and unknowingly hopeful. She didn't expect to hear those words from him. He remembered what day was today. He wanted to ease her anxiety. At that moment she was eminently grateful to him. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

François smiled and tenderly kissed her right temple. "Goodnight, Anne."

"Goodnight," she whispered.

François put a little more distance between their chests to allow her having comfortable sleep. His left hand hugged her, his right hand on her stomach. Soon they together drifted to peaceful sleep. The night was calm for Anne because for the first time in many months the ghost of King Henry didn't haunt her in her wild nightmares.

* * *

_**I would like to thank the readers who subscribed and favourited this story.**_

_**I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help.**_

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter. This chapter is more romantic and contemplative than political. Don't worry because there will be many politically centered dialogues in the future chapters._

_I would like to thank you for sharing your opinion about François and Anne's future children. Readers' feedback always helps to decide how to write. _

_What you think about the development of relations between Anne and King François I?_

_Which part of the chapter did you like the most?_

_I hope that you liked several romantic scenes in this chapter: the scene on the canals, the scene in the art gallery, and the scene about Anne's nightmare. I am just showing François and Anne's communication in details. I am portraying François as a true Renaissance man._

_There will be many sensitive scenes in this story. The show was also quite sensual and emotional, so that I am just following the story. Moreover, I like emotional episodes. You might have already remarked how I am describing emotions in François and Anne's minds. I like playing with the emotions of the heroes._

_The historical facts about King François I's deceased children, Dauphin Henri, Diane de Poitiers, and Charles de Valois, Duke d'Orléans, are historically correct. Henri and Charles, François' sons, and Diane de Poitiers are portrayed close enough to real historical people._

_It is also historically correct that Anne de Montmorency and Anne de Pisseleu hated each other will all their hearts. Montmorency will play an important role in this story._

_My assumption that Anne de Pisseleu was barren might be correct. There were rumors around the court that she had never been pregnant, which is strange, given the absence of effective birth control at that period (well, you know which methods were used). My ancestor also wrote that she was barren, although François wanted to have children with her. This woman will play an important role in this story and in the intrigues around Anne and François. Look at her – she is very angry that he married another woman._

_I will give you more information about King François I's mistresses and illegitimate children in the next chapter. He had illegitimate offspring and even acknowledged some of them as his "natural bastards"._

_The names of the French poets and their short biographies are historically correct. The details about Leonardo da Vinci are correct, except for my assumption that he didn't die in François' arms and that it was a myth._

_I don't know when the next update will come. I will be very busy in the next weeks. We will see._

_**Let me know what you like and dislike in this chapter. Reviews are always appreciated, including criticism, provided that it is well grounded. Thank you in advance.**_

_When you write a long chapter, it is quite probable that there will be typos and even some errors. A reader with his scrupulous gaze often notices more than a writer and even a beta reader. If you can find any typos and/or mistakes here, I do apologize. Please let me know about them in a private message._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Gray shadows of revenge**

_**September 16, 1537, Hampton Court Palace, County of Middlesex, England**_

Dressed in the dark gray velvet doublet trimmed with ermine on the sleeves and with dipping pearls and diamonds on the front, the flat gray pants, the black cloth gaiters mounting to the knee, with his golden and diamond chain gleaming around his neck, King Henry was sitting on his throne. Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, was standing on the right side from the King, the huge tarnished silver buttons of his black brocade doublet, seeming to be like flashy jewels on the front. They were accepting the French Ambassador to England _Philippe de Chabot, Seigneur de Brion, Count de Charny and de Buzançois, __Admiral de Brion_. The Admiral's attire contrasted in a pungent way with that of Henry and Charles: Chabot wore the tight Italian-styled yellow pants, the yellow silk doublet with slashed sleeves, the white shirt, as well as the small white-and-yellow velvet mantle, over which lay the elegant white fluted ruff.

Philippe de Chabot bowed to the King of England. "Your Majesty, I am happy to see you today."

"The pleasure is mutual, Your Excellency," King Henry said, drawling each world and eyeing the ambassador's appearance. "Why are you wearing yellow?"

Chabot's face showed confusion. "Actually, I am wearing white and yellow."

"Mainly yellow and some white," Henry amended him, smiling with only his lips. "In Spain, yellow color used to be the symbol of mourning, but now they mainly associate it heresy. People who were accused of heresy and refused to recant are forced to come before the Spanish Inquisition dressed in a yellow cape." He frowned. "Did you, Your Excellency, develop an interest in the new religious beliefs and, being afraid of your master's opinion, clothed yourself in yellow in advance, as a heretic before an Inquisitor?"

The Duke of Suffolk grinned malevolently. Before Charles used to like Philippe de Chabot, and their feeling was reciprocal. In the summer of 1534, Chabot came to England with a diplomatic mission to negotiate the marriage of Elizabeth Tudor to Charles de Valois, who was known as Duke d'Angoulême at that time. At that time, the Admiral willingly spent two weeks at Suffolk's estate as he didn't hurry to arrive at the court, not wishing to meet with Anne Boleyn whom he detested. However, Charles' perception of Admiral de Brion drastically changed after the events around Thomas Cromwell. While both Henry and Charles were genuinely puzzled with the role of King François in the creation and the distribution of the materials, Henry was blinded by anger and by nostalgia for the past with Anne, which undermined his ability to see the reality with clarity. Henry wasn't sure that François was involved into the matter, but Charles was entirely convinced that France was playing with England in a sophisticated game for whatever reason. Brandon didn't favor an Anglo-French alliance, openly espousing a pro-imperial policy at the meeting of the Privy Council. If England's relations with France worsened, he wouldn't be chagrined.

"Your Majesty, my beliefs are Catholic, but I am interested in the Protestantism out of pure curiosity." Chabot was ready to laugh at the false origin of his clothing attributed to him by the King. Henry was an odd man, and Chabot didn't like his jokes and hints. "Unlike its meaning in England and in Spain, yellow color doesn't have special meaning in France," he said, unable to restrain a smile. "It was sunny outside when I awoke, and I wanted to wear vibrant colors today."

"In contrast to you, Your Excellency, we are not in joy and don't wish to wear vivid clothing," Henry noted, his fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.

"I am sorry if I displeased Your Majesty." Chabot feigned notes of apology in his tone.

The King smiled. "On the contrary, you pleased me with your answer because it showed me that I should also wear vibrant colors to elevate my mood. Possibly, I will decide in favor of crimson tomorrow."

"The French tend to be uncreative at the latest time," Charles Brandon said, his tone sodden with malice. "You think that if you speak French and if you make yourself persona grata with the elite, then you will surely succeed, and news and contacts will flow to you."

Chabot was inflamed with anger at Brandon, but he masterfully contained his indignation. He wasn't going to cajole Henry and Charles with sweet speeches and was prepared to defend the French with admirable courage and tasteful sense of wit. "I have heard so many complaints about French eccentricity from the Imperial ambassador last week." His expression was perfectly innocent. "Next time when I hear something like this I will refer the ambassador to Your Grace."

Charles blanched at Chabot's words, defeated and angry.

Feeling the tension in the air, Henry maneuvered to another topic. "Your Excellency, I am very much concerned how our _brother_ François is doing."

Chabot flashed a smile. "His Majesty King François is in Italy now. He is doing well."

Henry narrowed his eyes. "I have heard that King François married the noblewoman in Venice after he had annulled his marriage to _Eleanor of Austria_ and sent her back to _Emperor Charles V_."

"Your Majesty has accurate information," Chabot asserted.

"And from which noble house does François' new wife descend?" Henry questioned.

The Ambassador shrugged. "There is no information about it."

King Henry and the Duke of Suffolk exchanged bewildered glances.

Henry raised a brow and twisted his fingers on his right hand. He didn't like what Chabot said to him. "Your Excellency, who is the lady who has recently become the Queen of France?"

"Even if I wanted to tell Your Majesty the new Queen's name, I couldn't do that. Because of the recent assassination attempts on King François' life, the name of our new Queen is confidential at this point. It is done to protect her life in case a new assassination attempt happens," Chabot explained ceremonially. Truth be told, he was tired of all the secrecy around the deal François placed on his shoulders and baffled by the mysterious Queen of France. His devotion and loyalty to François compelled the Admiral not to recoil from his mission before any of the consequences of his intrusion on the peaceful life of the English King.

King Henry stared at the Ambassador, his aquamarine eyes blazing with challenge. "Your Excellency, who wanted to take the life of our _brother_ François?"

"It is not a secret what my King is thinking. There are many rumors about these unfortunate circumstances," Chabot answered.

"Thank you for the clarification, Your Excellency," Henry replied with feigned gratitude. "I will prepare special gifts for the new Queen in a week. I must congratulate François with a new marriage. Will you be able to send them to Italy to François?"

The French Ambassador peered at it with mock seriousness. "Of course, if it is what Your Majesty wishes." He bowed to the King.

"Thank you," Henry answered. "The Duke of Suffolk will be the Envoy of England." Then his gaze shifted to Charles Brandon. "Charles, you will go to Italy and find François there."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Duke of Suffolk responded.

When the French ambassador left the room, the King of England sighed heavily and stared at Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk. Both of them were a little amazed that King François had received an annulment from _the Pope Paul III_ so quickly.

"I must know everything about the current state of relations between François and the Emperor. I also want to investigate who François' mysterious wife is," Henry instructed.

"There are a lot of rumors about this enigmatic woman nicknamed_the Savior of the Knight-King_. This lady became very popular in the Northern Italy, including the Republic of Venice, the Duchy of Savoy, and the Duchy of Milan. King François is using her image to boil the hatred against the Emperor in these regions. In Northern Italy and in Savoy the new Queen of France is known as a hero. In France the common people are worshiping her as a saint because she saved King François," Charles announced.

"I know, Charles," Henry replied thoughtfully. He didn't like all that secrecy around François' marriage. "Isn't it strange that François married so quickly after an annulment?" He silently questioned what was happening in France. What a damned hypocrite François was, Henry thought.

Charles shrugged. "Your Majesty, I don't know. I will come to Italy once the gifts for the new Queen are ready. What do you suppose to send to them?"

Henry began to think, but he didn't know. He wasn't a creative man by nature. In addition, he knew that François was a true Renaissance man, being a patron of arts and humanism. He wanted to make something that would amaze both the King and the Queen of France. "I want to prepare for them two golden cups embroiled by diamonds."

Charles smiled with a restraint, sweet smile. "Your Majesty, I have another idea."

Henry raised his brows. "What?"

"I will be in Italy and will be able to buy for the royal couple a great piece of art by an Italian master. I will do my best to find something rare and gorgeous," Charles Brandon pledged.

"Very well," King Henry approved. "Please do this."

"I will," Charles pledged.

King Henry frowned. His eyes turned thoughtful. "I do believe that it was the Emperor who tried to kill François. The Emperor must be furious, especially after the recent annulment of François' marriage to Eleanor." He wasn't pleased that the Pope annulled the King of France's marriage when he refused outright to annul Henry's marriage to _Catherine of Aragon_.

"Your Majesty, if Emperor Charles indeed tried to assassinate King François, then we can no longer help him in his military campaigns," Charles said cautiously.

The King sighed. "I just hope that François doesn't know about the fact that I financially supported the Emperor when François was captured at Pavia."

"I don't think that King François knows," Charles assumed.

Henry wasn't so sure that such a thought had never crossed François' mind. "François is not a stupid man. He is also a very powerful monarch, even despite his dismay at Pavia and his captivity, when he had been forced to make major concessions to the Emperor before he was released. France has changed since 1526. François created a powerful, multitudinous, well-trained army which might be compared in its force with the army of the Emperor. Don't forget about France's alliance with the Ottoman Empire."

Charles knew that Henry was quoting Cromwell's words. It was well-known that Cromwell had greatly favored the Imperial alliance. "Your Majesty is right," he said. "I have also heard that King François is going to establish an alliance with the Republic of Venice."

"I will talk to Cromwell about it," the King added.

"How is Her Majesty Queen Jane?" the Duke of Suffolk asked.

"Jane is feeling unwell and is always tired. Doctor Linacre decided that she must stay bedridden till the birth of our child," Henry supplied.

"When should we expect the Prince of Wales?"

Henry's face brightened up, his eyes were dancing with flame. "Charles, I am so happy that in less than two months I will have a son." He paused, his smile growing wider. "It will be a son!" he asserted.

Charles also hoped that Henry's new child would be a son. Otherwise he didn't want to be at the court to know what would happen to the King who was growing impatient to have a male heir. Perhaps it was a good time to go to Italy for several months. "Yes, Your Majesty, you will have a son," he said.

In a week, when the golden cups were prepared for the Queen and the King of France, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, left London for France and then for Italy to find King François there.

* * *

_**September 18, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, Republic of Venice**_

François and Anne were playing chess in the study room at _the_ _Palazzo Montreuil. _It was a small cozy room decorated in the high Renaissance style. The walls were painted in light blue color, one wall was taken up with a large black-oak sideboard with exquisitely polished silver plate on display and another wall was covered with three fine Italian paintings, which were so much loved by François and Anne. The room was warmed by a large golden floor mat and many pieces of gilded furniture. There were numerous costly vases and statues placed throughout the room.

Cardinal de Tournon bowed. "Your Majesties, we have some news from our English spies," he said.

Brosse also bowed. "The news is very important," he added.

François and Anne stared at them in anticipation, dark shadows passing over their faces.

François smiled. "Please, gentlemen, sit down."

Brosse and Tournon bowed again and sank into two high-back leather-covered chairs.

François cast a quick glance at the chessboard and then glared at his visitors. "Your Eminence and Monsieur de la Brosse, tell us what news you want to share."

Anne stared outside the window, looking at the sky darkened for recent autumn rain.

Tournon inhaled and exhaled even more deeply. A heartbeat later, he cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Your Majesties, the ambassador Philippe de Chabot eventually realized who made the most ridiculous claim among all the charges."

At these words, Anne's head swiftly turned to the Cardinal. Her eyes were blazing in mystification, but her voice was calm and cold as she spoke. "Which charge do you mean, Your Eminence?" She had already guessed that it was an incest charge because among all the lies around her name it was the most ludicrous.

Tournon briefly touched his red square-quartered cap. "Your Majesty, I mean the incest charge."

François put a long finger under his chin. He often did it when he was thinking. "And who placed that wrenched lie on my wife? Thomas Cromwell?"

Tournon averted his gaze. He didn't know how to say that the betrayal was among the Boleyns. Feeling the Cardinal hesitated to speak, Brosse took an initiative. "Your Majesties, the news is not pleasant." He sighed heavily. "It was _Lady Jane Boleyn, Viscountess Rochford_, who said to Master Cromwell that Monsieur George Boleyn had an incestuous relationship with his sister."

"Philippe cannot be mistaken?" François questioned, his eyes lowered on the chessboard. He was shocked. He didn't expect that Anne's sister-in-law was such a cunning and dishonest woman. His gaze drifted to Anne's beautiful face, pale in her delicate condition. He knew that it came like a thunderstruck for Anne. He was afraid that Anne would be very anxious and would hurt herself and the baby. He still remembered the letters from his ambassador to England and from his spies at King Henry's court, the letters about Anne's two miscarriages, which resulted from high stress as she tried to secure her position as the Queen and as she struggled with Henry's mistresses. However, Anne still looked calm.

Tournon sighed beneath his breath, shivered, then stiffened. "Your Majesty, Monsieur Philippe de Chabot can't be mistaken. He and his people looked through the materials of the deal. During the investigation led by Cromwell, several ladies-in-waiting were questioned, including _Lady Margaret Shelton_ and _Lady Anne Shelton_. The ladies-in-waiting said that some men visited the Queen's bedchamber in the night, like Mark Smeaton who played for the Queen. These ladies didn't accuse the Queen." He paused. "Monsieur de Chabot wrote that there are so many loopholes in the deal that if King Henry dared to look at it, he would be shocked how his former wife could have been found guilty."

François looked at Brosse and Tournon. "Lady Rochford accused the Queen and her brother of incest," he supplied. It wasn't clear whether it was a question or an assertion.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Tournon answered.

"It is an unexpected turn of events that Lady Rochford did that," the King of France declared.

"Maybe Jane Boleyn is an evil, envious woman," Brosse blurted out.

"Perhaps, she wanted to take her revenge on Monsieur George Boleyn for something unknown," Tournon suggested accurately.

Anne was keeping silent. The ominous, startled silence pressed on them. When the silence became unbearable, she spoke in a cold, unemotional voice. She stared at François, her blue eyes impenetrable. "It is indeed unexpected news. I could have never imagined that Lady Rochford had been capable of spreading such an ill-favored lie. George and I were always close as a brother and a sister, but there was nothing more. He was my favorite sibling who had always supported me," she said in a low voice.

Then Anne cast her eyes down at the chessboard. She took her bishop and moved it across the chessboard. She did it automatically, without thinking. Anne steeled herself against the sensation of rage. She felt a shiver deep in her chest, but she would not show it. She was angry, very angry that Jane Boleyn had turned out to be a traitor and that she had helped Henry Tudor and Cromwell to murder her innocent brother. She loathed and hated Jane Boleyn with all her heart. Anne didn't understand why her brother's wife had hated both George and Anne so much. What did they do to her? Why did she accuse them of incest? Why did she want Anne and George to die? Or did she wish George's death and accused Anne to get rid of George? Who was Jane Boleyn? Anne thought that Lady Rochford was a traitor, a dimwitted hateful woman. If Jane had any problems with George, she could come to Anne and tell her. Anne clenched her fists under the table. She couldn't allow François and his ministers to see her rage. She was the Queen of France and her behavior must be regal.

"I understand, Anne," François told her.

Anne raised her chin up as she had become adept at doing, and forced a controlled smile onto her face. "I think Jane Boleyn hated my brother because they had a really unfortunate marriage. Both of them never wanted to get married. However, my father, the Earl of Wiltshire, made them marry. Jane probably wished to have her revenge on our family for her misery because George had never been an ideal husband. I truly don't know what other reasons could exist." A malicious grin crossed her lips for an instance, her blue eyes blank as though nothing had happened. "Lady Jane Rochford should be pleased that my innocent brother was executed on the back of those ridiculous charges," her dispassionate voice resonated.

François surprised Anne by laughing. It was the laugh of shock and an attempt to defuse the tension in the room. "Pleased, yes, most assuredly, she is that," he said in a high voice.

"Mischief-makers are always pleased with the results of their doings," Anne parried, smiling with a thin-lipped, bleak smile.

François stared at Tournon and Brosse. "Thank you, Your Eminence and Monsieur de la Brosse." He smiled with a warm smile. "Can you please leave me alone with my wife? We must discuss the new information in private. We will come later to have a dinner with you."

Brosse and Tournon climbed to their feet and bowed to the King and the Queen of France. They left the room without any other words.

François smiled heartily. "Anne, please don't worry. Lady Rochford will pay for her crimes. Now when we know the truth it will be easier for us to implement our plan. We are resourceful enough to outrun Cromwell and Lady Rochford and even King Henry." His right hand trailed down her still flat belly. "Anne, I don't want you to worry."

Anne shook her head and refused to feel the emotion that any mention of Lady Rochford brought. But Anne's heart was beating so loudly that she could hardly identify François' words. She tried to slow her heart, but each moment was more difficult than the last. "I am not frustrated, Your Majesty. I just didn't expect my sister-in-law to be so cunning and so mendacious."

"Well, we will learn over time why she did that."

Anne tipped her chin. "I wonder how we can pressure her. We are in Italy and she is in England."

François smiled. "Well, I have some suggestions."

Anne stared at him with silent question. "Why do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"Anne, I sent Philippe de Chabot to England because he is one of the most entrusted people in my entourage. When I learnt about Henry's betrayal as he had financially supported the Emperor in _the Italian war of 1521-1526_, I asked Philippe to be the Ambassador to England and to watch Henry." He paused and rubbed his cheek. "Now I will ask Philippe to deal with Lady Rochford."

"And what can we do?"

"Many things," the King said cryptically. "There is one quite unusual method to influence her from distance. It might prove to be effective because she will be haunted by what she wants to forget."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Then, listen to me."

In the next half an hour, François and Anne discussed the situation with Jane Boleyn. Finally, they agreed upon what François would order Philippe de Chabot to do.

King François sighed, thinking whether he should say what he wanted to say. He decided to be truthful with Anne. "Besides, the situation with you was quite uncertain at that moment, and I wanted Chabot to regularly report to me about your case," he confessed.

Anne raised her brows. "To report about my case?"

"Yes." François nodded. "I was worried about you. Honestly, I didn't believe that Henry would do what he did."

Anne laughed half humorlessly, half sarcastically. "His Majesty King Henry's actions are hardly believable," she replied coldly. As she was reminded about what Henry had done to her, she couldn't look at François. She averted her gaze. She was also pleased that François was so frank with her. She didn't expect him to worry about her. She felt tears press against her eyes again, but she was fighting them back. She hated being weak. She sighed heavily. She felt better as she won the battle with tears and her eyes were still dry.

François leapt to his feet and approached Anne, making her stand up. He swung her around to himself. He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her. As their lips parted, he smiled with a charming smile. "Anne, please try not to be so frustrated," he remonstrated. She wanted to object, but he put a finger to her lips. "If you don't wish to do it for yourself, think about our child."

Anne glanced at him, her gaze blank. However, she had to put much effort to stay visibly calm because the news about Jane Boleyn had affected her much more than she had wanted to admit. All her hurt came back to the surface, but she masked it. "I am not frustrated," she said with a stony smile.

François sighed. Her denial only showed to him that she was hurt. Observing her, he had already learnt to understand her mood swings even under the mask of indifference. Hadn't he possessed such great observation skills, which had been the object of his pride, he would have never been able to start understanding Anne. "Anne, I will always take care of you and our child," he declared in the almost fatherly. It was a protective voice that she liked.

Anne felt much better that François was with her in the same room. "Thank you," she said.

François smiled. "Someday, very soon, your name will be cleared and we will say to the whole world who you are. You will be a great Queen Consort of France. One day you will see your children you were forced to leave in England, although now it is not possible. Will that not be grand? You will have no time to be sad then."

At that moment Anne felt very close to François. She was grateful to him because he said what she wanted to hear. Since her escape from England, she felt that as if François had taken on the weight of the world on her shoulders. François made her feel strangely comfortable, taking a part of her load from her. "Yes, it would be perfect," she answered with gratitude.

François pulled her to his chest and kissed her on the nape of her head. "Perfect," he echoed.

Suddenly, Anne remembered that François had told her that he had supported her marriage to Henry when they had met in _Calais_ in October 1532. However, later he hadn't acknowledged her as the Queen of England, and she had felt betrayed. Besides, François hadn't given permission for a betrothal of Elizabeth with his son _Charles de Valois, Duke d'Orléans_, François' third son with Claude of France. At that moment, she had felt that King François, whom she had regarded as her friend, had betrayed her for the second time. Will he betray her next time? Now she was in his authority, and he could do with her what he wanted, in the light of her supposed death and due to their secret marriage. As her brain replayed those thoughts, a mixture of anger and frustration transfixed her heart, and she stepped away from François.

Anne and François looked at each other for nearly a minute. Her blue eyes were blazing with blue flame. The blue eyes turned darker, so dark blue like dying flame. His amber eyes also changed their hue, darkening at the mere sign of her rebellion to him. He didn't understand what caused that mood swing when a minute ago everything seemed to be fine.

"Anne, what is it with you?"

Anne shook her head. She had to be strong and not to show her feelings. "Your Majesty, I am fine."

François didn't believe her. He guessed what happened. She didn't trust him and was thinking about her uncertain future. "Anne, I am not going to cast you off as my wife," he spelled out slowly, as though letting her to digest his words. "I told you what would happen if our plans failed. You can be calm regarding this matter." He stepped to her and took her hands in his. "Do you think that I am so heartless to set aside a woman who is carrying my child?" He waved his head. "I will never bastardize my own child, a child who was conceived and born in true matrimony blessed by God."

Anne wanted to laugh. François said that he would never bastardize his offspring, and how strange it sounded for her. Henry made Elizabeth and Arthur bastards; he even didn't meet Arthur. She glared up at François, the flame in the blue eyes lighter. "Thank you for your assurances, Your Majesty."

François squeezed her hand. She was keeping silent, their eyes locked. "What do you want, Anne?"

Anne slightly tilted her head. "I want Thomas Cromwell and Jane Boleyn to pay for their crimes. I suspect that Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, also had his part in my downfall, and I also want him to pay his debt back." Her blue eyes narrowed, blue flame rekindled with a new strength. "I want Jane Boleyn and Thomas Cromwell to die."

Anne didn't tell François that she was zealous for hearing how Henry begged her for forgiveness. She dreamed to see Henry on his knees in front of her, begging for foreignness and atonement. She desired Henry to suffer as much as she suffered at the Tower and during their tumultuous marriage. She wished him to suffer because he cast off not only her, but also _Catherine of Aragon_. Although she was still sure that Henry and Catherine's marriage was invalid as Catherine had been married to Arthur before, Anne still wanted Henry to pay even for Catherine's injustice and suffering. It was an unusual feeling for her, but she desired that.

François emitted a heavy sign. He wasn't a foolish man, and he understood what she didn't tell him. She didn't tell him that she wanted Henry to suffer. He decided to skip that moment. "You understand that Jane Boleyn and Thomas Cromwell will be executed if our plan works," he stated.

She nodded with a blood-curdling smile on her lips. "Yes."

"As for Charles Brandon, it will be difficult to learn how he contributed to the matter. I might be mistaken, but I am not sure that he took part in your downfall," François supposed.

Anne chucked. "Charles Brandon has always hated me."

He raised a brow. "What do you want to arrange for him?"

"Definitely not to die," Anne said. "But I want him to suffer."

"Anne, he might be removed from Henry's favor. If it doesn't happen once your innocence is proved, we will think about something else, if you will still want this."

"Brandon might be dealt later," Anne agreed.

François took her right hand in his and placed a kiss on it. "The greatest revenge on your enemies will be if you move on and are happy."

"Maybe Your Majesty is right," she replied in a neutral voice.

François was looking at her with an expression of mingled sorrow and anger. "Anne, why are you remembering only pain from your past? Why are you so bent on destroying yourself?" he said calmly. His facial expression softened. "Why?" He squeezed her hands. "I told you that we would deal with those who designed your downfall."

The color drained out of her face. She didn't what to hear what he said. She didn't know whether she believed him or only wanted to believe him. So many people betrayed her, even people whom she believed and whom she loved, especially King Henry. She forced herself to smile with a cold smile. "I know that I may trust Your Majesty because we are political allies." Her tone was official.

The King's face was crossed by a momentary frown. He understood her pain, but he also wanted her to hear and understand his words. He wanted her to move on, not to live with venom and hatred in her heart. "Anne, you cannot forget your past, but you mustn't be focused only on your tragic memories. You will never overcome your tragic past until you resign yourself to the fact that what happened in the past must be left in the past. Think about this." His voice dropped and faded away until it was no more than a whisper.

François hugged her and placed a kiss on her forehead. Anne didn't step back, but she was frozen. They stood in the same position for several minutes, and nobody dared to move. She felt how his hands encircled her waist. She felt them rest there, her heart beating faster and faster as the scalding heat of his hands penetrated her body. She felt his warm breathing on her forehead, rising and falling. Her amazement that François didn't move took away her breath.

François bent his head down and looked into Anne's eyes. The fire in the blue eyes was still cold, but dark flame stopped flickering. He knew that she could be either his curse or his blessing, but he didn't care. If their plans failed, damnation would be a worthwhile price to pay for those moments with her he had now. Somehow François felt that the world currently seemed right, as his senses and soul seemed to be filled after years of emptiness. He crushed his lips on hers, and she responded to his kiss. He needed nothing more at that moment.

* * *

_**September 21, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

"Monsieur de la Brosse, I am leaving today for Piedmont," King François declared in a high voice. "You are staying here with my wife, Queen Anne of France, and with Count Jean de Montreuil. Fifteen of my guards, whom I am trusting the most, will also stay here. As I must be well accompanied on my way to Turin, His Eminence Cardinal de Tournon had already requested more guards to arrive here from Turin."

Jacques de la Brosse was honored to be accredited with such an important task as the security of the Queen, even if she was the secret Queen and all the more Anne Boleyn. "Your Majesty, don't worry – I will take care of everything in Venice."

The King of France heaved a deep, staccato breath. "My wife is with child. Please if you hear something negative about me or any unpleasant news from England, think carefully how to represent this news to Queen Anne," he instructed.

François was afraid that negativity and stress can distress Anne, possibly causing a new miscarriage. He had known about her miscarriages from his French spies a long time ago when the whole Europe was observing the dynamics of relationship between King Henry and Anne Boleyn. In addition, the Venetian doctor who examined Anne told François that Anne had confessed that she had had two miscarriages and that her last pregnancy had been rather difficult, which François attributed to the general distress and emotional fragility during her imprisonment, as well as to the miserable conditions at the Tower of London. At least François had a glimpse of what had happened to Anne after Henry Tudor had decided to get rid of her.

"I will be very careful, Your Majesty," Brosse vowed.

"Monsieur de la Brosse, this is a letter for my sister Marguerite, the Queen of Navarre." François handed the stamped letter with his personal royal seal to Brosse. "If something goes wrong with me, you will pass this letter to my sister and will take care of my wife, Queen Anne, until my sister takes her under her protection."

Brosse bowed to the King of France. "Everything will be done in accordance with your instructions."

"Thank you," François said shortly. "I am ready to bribe you in order to take the best care of my wife," he mocked.

Brosse bowed to the King. "Bribes! Always bribes! And such a lovely bribe to preserve the Queen of France's life," he said with a democratic smile.

The King of France tipped his head back and laughed a shrill laugh.

* * *

_**October 12, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

_King Henry VIII_ was furious. New and new, stronger and stronger waves of rampage and anger were overcoming him every day in the past week. Everybody knew that it was because of Anne Boleyn that the King's infamous Tudor temper didn't allow the courtiers to live in calmness and to enjoy festivities and pleasantries at the court. The court was silent, and in the afternoons it might have seemed abandoned by people. There were no official receptions, grand feats, and jousts at the court.

At times King Henry summoned somebody to his chambers or to his receptions rooms. The visitors reported that the King was scolding everybody and threatening the courtiers to banish them from the court or to send them to the Tower of London without any explanation. It was also known that the King was throwing things in his chambers, breaking furniture, mirrors and even his own nails. It was disastrous. The consequences were unpredictable.

On the seventh day of that madness, King Henry summoned into his chambers _Thomas Cromwell, Secretary of State, Chancellor of the Exchequer and Master of the Rolls_, who had recently been granted the title _Baron Cromwell of Wimbledon_. During that meeting courtiers were holding their breath because they knew that the incriminating pamphlets against Cromwell, which had recently appeared in England, were the main reason of the King's insanity. _Edward Seymour, 1st Earl of Hertford, _who was recently raised to the Earl of Hertford, and _Thomas Seymour_, _1st Baron Sudeley_, who was recently created Baron Sudeley, were also witnessing that conversation. Only _Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk_, wasn't there because he left the court to spend a month at his estates due to some problems with his health.

Cromwell was standing near the King of England, looking directly into his eyes. He knew what the reason for the King's rampage and anger was. He learnt that in France _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_, the infamous poet at the French court, had issued the accusing pamphlets against Master Cromwell, the pamphlets which proclaimed Thomas Cromwell to be the organizer of the imprisonment and execution of the innocent Queen Anne Boleyn. Cromwell had already had several patterns of the pamphlets on his desk at home and in his office. As he read the pamphlets, he was shocked because he didn't understand why it was happening now and why they were issued in France. _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_ was one of the most favored poets at the French court, and his patron was _Marguerite de Navarre_, the French King's elder sister. Was it King François or his sister Marguerite who had undertaken the route to humiliate and degrade Cromwell in England? Why did it happen? What objective did the King or his sister pursue? Too many questions were whirling in Cromwell's mind, questions without any answers.

King Henry began to pace the room back and forth. All others stood rooted, observing the King's nervousness, displeasure, and anger in anticipation. The King was dressed in the white silk shirt with the standing band collar and ruffles, the silver pants, and the black satin doublet, lavishly embroidered with jewelry. In his luxurious day attire and with the golden crown encrusted with diamonds, rubies, pearls, emeralds and one large sapphire set in a Maltese cross at the top of the crown on his head, King Henry looked like a very powerful, yet enraged monarch who was going to sign thousands of death warrants for his subjects. However, Henry didn't know that the pamphlets were just gray shadows of revenge – the darkest shadows would reach him afterwards.

Henry one of the parchments from a large pile at his desk and began to read one of the pamphlets aloud.

_She was an incredible woman to die_

_An innocent victim of a wretched lie_

_An innocent tool of political struggle_

_She was brought down by_ _a holy friar_

_A holy friar who belied his own Queen_

_A holy friar who fooled even his King_

_A liar embezzling King's money and treasures_

_A liar shaming his King and his country_

_And what is his name? What do you think?_

_He is Thomas Cromwell, a knave and a cheat_

_Born low, but climbed high through many dead_

_He is Thomas Cromwell, King's own right hand_

King Henry stopped reading. His face was red in anger, his aquamarine eyes darkened. "I have many pamphlets in English. They were originally issued in French in Paris and distributed in France. Later they were translated into English and also distributed in the whole England, not only in London! Everybody can find such pamphlets in Dover, Yorkshire, Manchester, Oxford, and in many other cities. They are available even in the countryside." His voice was a high tenor, edged with anger and exasperation. He came closer to Cromwell and threw the parchment on the floor to Cromwell's feet. "Master Cromwell, how may you explain the existence of these pamphlets?" The King flashed a dangerous look at Cromwell. His gaze promised many troubles.

Cromwell shrugged helplessly. He did his best not to show his weakness and his fear because what pamphlets were saying was the truth. "Your Majesty, I am truly sorry, but I don't know why this French poet wrote and distributed the pamphlets in France and later in England."

Edward Seymour bent down and took the pamphlets in his hands. "Your Majesty, I think that Master Cromwell indeed doesn't know why the pamphlets were issued."

King Henry was very angry. He was also confused and even humiliated because never had he fantasized that any French or any other poet could have written such loud incriminating pamphlets about his right hand and his major political brain – Thomas Cromwell. The fact that the pamphlets proclaimed Anne Boleyn's innocence enraged him to the roots of his hair. He hated Anne from the bottom of his heart, especially because she had been constantly haunting him in his dreams and even in the daytime. "In this case why these pamphlets were issued? Who permitted the issuance of these dirty pamphlets?" he roared, his finger pointing on the pamphlets in Edward Seymour's hand.

Cromwell signed heavily. "Your Majesty, as far as I know, the poet _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_ was always patronized personally by King François and his sister Queen Marguerite of Navarre," he said.

"His Majesty King François in currently in Italy," Thomas Seymour interjected.

Edward nodded. "His Majesty King François spent much time in Venice, but now he should be in Piedmont with his army. Our spies say that the Emperor is gathering his forces and training his army. The French are doing the same," he declared in a cold voice.

Cromwell was going to be bold. He knew that what had been said in the pamphlets was the truth. If he wanted to save himself, he had to act operatively. "Your Majesty, I beseech you not to blame me for what I am going to tell you. Perhaps, King François knows that the pamphlets were issued. Maybe he wants to provoke England for the war with France?"

Thomas Seymour shook his head in disagreement. "It is very unlikely because the King of France is currently preparing for the battle with the Emperor. He is a clever man and will never have the war with England while France is leading the Italian war with the Emperor. There are rumors that it the next battle with the Emperor will be very serious and bloody," he declared with confidence.

Edward Seymour nodded. "I agree with my brother."

Henry's eyes wandered around. "Then why did François allow his poets to write and distribute these knavish, scurrilous pamphlets in his kingdom and in England?"

Cromwell shrugged. "Your Majesty, there is also another opportunity. Maybe His Majesty King François even doesn't know that such terrible pamphlets were distributed in Europe," he said. He wasn't sure in that. On the contrary, he was convinced that King François initiated the composition and the distribution of the pamphlets. But why did he do it? What was the King of France planning?

Henry sighed heavily, his eyes still shooting daggers. "I admit that it is true. Who is the Regent of France while François is out of the country?"

"The Regent is Queen Marguerite of Navarre," Edward Seymour enlightened.

King Henry felt rushing blood thrumming in his ears. His hands quivered. A sigh escaped his lips. "We must send our Envoy to _Marguerite de Navarre_ and demand from her to arrest _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_. I want to see him dead. I want to see him hanged, drawn, and quartered, his four parts hanging somewhere in the center of Paris," Henry announced angrily.

"My brother Thomas can become our Envoy to France," Edward Seymour offered.

Henry stared at Thomas Seymour. "Lord Sudeley, I am commissioning you with the task to talk to the King of France and make our claims against the poet who wrote the pamphlets," he ordered.

Thomas Seymour bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Edward Seymour also bowed. "We will do everything you wish, Your Majesty."

Henry stared with a hard gaze at Edward. "Of course, Lord Hertford. I am your King."

Cromwell felt as though he had dropped in hell. He closed his eyes for an instance against the vivid images of his own black coffin as he imagined his death. Yet, he wouldn't need a coffin if he was executed. He could almost hear human screams in purgatory, loud like a wild beast bellow. He felt his heartbeat accelerating to suffocation. What was going to happen to him? "Your Majesty, if I may somehow help you, I am always ready to do everything." His bark faded to a whisper.

Henry cursed under his breath, flicking his eyes heavenward as if pleading for divine intervention at the sight of Cromwell and the frenzy associated with those pamphlets. He lowered his eyes and stared at Cromwell. "Master Cromwell, you are banished from the court and from all the offices until the clarification of some important matters. I don't wish to have new scandals."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Cromwell said quietly.

Henry sighed. "Master Cromwell, stay at home until my further instructions. Don't come to the office before you receive any special notification from me," he commanded in a harsh voice.

Cromwell gave a curt nod with all the forced determination he could muster. "I will do as you wish, Your Majesty." Inwardly he was shuddering because he didn't know whether it was the beginning of his own downfall, possibly resulting in his death.

* * *

_**October 13, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

Today King Henry was waiting for the special visitor – _Sir Francis Bryan_ who finally arrived at the court from Ireland. Cunning and calculating, Sir Francis Bryan was one of "the King's minions" and one of the rare courtiers who had always been favored by the King of England. It was the result of Bryan's ability to alter his opinions to conform to the King's. He always told Henry what he wanted to hear, helping the King to persuade himself to believe the illusionary things that neither happened nor at times were likely to happen. Francis Bryan was a second cousin of both Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour, but he promoted the Seymour family that was less well connected than the Boleyns. Despite his blood relationship with Anne Boleyn through their common grandmother Elizabeth Tilney, he worked with Thomas Cromwell on the downfall of the Boleyns, and his lack of principle led to his earning the nickname "_the Vicar of Hell_". He was known as incorrigible rake and a libertine who had bedded many female courtiers at King Henry's court and who was especially fond of whorehouses. Like Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, he was an accomplice in the English King's extramarital affairs.

Sir Francis Bryan bowed to King Henry. "Your Majesty, I am happy to finally return to England."

King Henry came to Francis Bryan and pulled him into a warm friendly embrace. "Sir Francis, I am also very glad to see you at my court. You spent much time abroad. How was Ireland?"

Francis rubbed his only seeing eye. Many years ago, he lost his left eye in a tournament at Greenwich, and he had to wear an eyepatch from then on. "Ireland was terrible, Your Majesty. I was dreaming to come back to London." A chuckle formed on his lips. "Well, as far as I know, there are interesting events happening at the court," he said with a sardonic smile.

Henry's eyes darkened. "Sir Francis, don't spoil my mood right from the early morning."

"I am sorry, Your Majesty."

"It is fine, Sir Francis," the King replied. "You have heard that at present I have to deal with these damned incriminating pamphlets against Thomas Cromwell. These pamphlets are available in the whole kingdom. What I don't understand is why these French poets are slandering Thomas Cromwell's name."

Francis was very interested what was going on around Thomas Cromwell whom he didn't like from the early beginning of Cromwell's triumph at the court. Although he participated in the downfall of the Boleyns, he did it not to help Cromwell, but to please the English King who desperately wished to get rid of Anne Boleyn and marry Jane Seymour. Bryan was a trimmer, a man with a lifelong reputation of being tumbleweed: he was changing his opinion as easily as the direction of wind could change several times in a day. Currently, he didn't understand what was going on with Cromwell, thinking that the most beneficial position for him would be to wait and see which version of events he should advocate. "Your Majesty, I am as confused as you are. I wouldn't make any conclusions before talking to the French ambassador and sending English Envoy to King François," he said in a neutral tone.

"I have already sent the Envoys," the King stated flatly.

"Then we should just wait and see," Bryan vocalized his strategy towards Cromwell.

Henry laughed. "Anyway, I am happy to have you back at the court, Sir Francis. You have always been one of the most loyal friends and servants for the Tudors. Therefore, I am going to make you the vice-admiral of the fleet. I also wish to appoint you as the Chief Gentleman of the Privy chamber."

Francis smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I think I don't deserve these posts." He was delighted that the King had favored him despite the time he had spent away from the English court.

King Henry smiled pleasantly. "Welcome to back to the court."

* * *

_**October 15, 1537, Allington Castle, County of Kent, England**_

Thomas Wyatt was released from the Tower of London right after George Boleyn, Mark Smeaton, William Brereton, Henry Norris, and Francis Weston had been executed, but before the first presumed date of Anne's execution. He didn't leave London, waiting for her execution in order to have a farewell look at his most beloved woman. Then rumors spread that Anne's execution had been postponed because she had been discovered to be with child. At that moment, Thomas Wyatt was naive to believe that Anne was probably saved because she was carrying the King's child. He had no doubts that it was the King's child because he saw how much Anne had loved King Henry and how she had struggled to give him a son and to secure her position as the Queen of England. Hope flared up in his heart, and he even spoke to Thomas Cromwell about what was going to happen to Anne. He accurately asked Cromwell what the King would do under the newly discovered circumstances. However, Cromwell only shrugged either in uncertainty or in unwillingness to reply. When Wyatt told him that Anne must be saved because she was carrying the King's child, Thomas Cromwell, who deeply sympathized to Wyatt, recommended the poet to forget about Anne Boleyn. Wyatt mentioned that he was thinking of returning to the court, but Cromwell clapped him on his shoulder, a friendly gesture of affection, and ordered him in a stern voice to go home, to Kent, for his own safety and the safety of his family. At that moment, Wyatt hated Cromwell with each and every fibre of his soul because he had finally realized that Cromwell would do nothing to save Anne, even knowing that she was carrying the King of England's child. It was also the moment when Wyatt had at last grasped that it was Cromwell who had engineered the downfall of the Boleyns and his beloved Anne in particular.

Thomas Wyatt went to Allington Castle in Kent, near Maidstone, which was only twenty miles away from Hever Castle. He was born and raised at Allington; he also spent the happiest time in his life – his time with Anne Boleyn. He knew Anne from their early childhood, often playing with his in the park of Hever Castle or Arlington Castle. The Wyatt family was not only the neighbors of the Boleyns – they also shared many friends at the court. Wyatt was devoted to Anne since his early childhood. In his adulthood, he fell in deep and passionate love with Anne nearly at the first moment when he saw her after her return from France. Thomas Wyatt particularly loved the enigmatic and dark attractiveness of Anne's image; he gave her the poetic name "brunet". He was also entranced by her deep blue eyes that hooked his soul and hypnotized him.

After his return to his family manor, he locked himself in his bedchamber, wishing to be alone and not to be disturbed. Looking at Anne's miniature in the locket, he wrote numerous poems in the honor of his beloved woman and his muse. Every night he was drinking himself to stupor, sleeping during the whole day, waking up, writing poems, and again drinking. He often didn't leave his bedchamber for several days, and his parents threatened him that they would break the shut door of his bedroom. Only after those threats spoken in harsh and serious tone, Thomas opened the door, looking at his parents with empty eyes and telling them that he wanted to be alone. During the first several months after Anne's arrest, Thomas was drinking so much that his parents were afraid that their son would die due to excessive intoxication by alcohol.

Thomas was often wandering around the places where he and Anne spent much time together. In the summer, he was lying under the old oak on the green glass where Anne had once told him that he must have forgotten about her because he had been married and because their relationship had been over. He told her that he would divorce his wife, but she was cruel enough to reply that he had to forget her if he treasured his life. He knew that she was not serious when she said that, but her words were cruel. Anyway, he did what she asked him to do – he never spoke about their relationship to somebody else. Anyway, it didn't save her and she was arrested at the order of the man whom she loved and who betrayed her. After a stroll through the places associated with Anne, Thomas returned to Allington Castle and drank himself to numbness throughout many days.

In the early autumn of 1536, Thomas Wyatt made a desperate attempt to meet with King Henry. When he arrived at the court, he wasn't given even a single chance to come there because the guards took him and he was brought to Thomas Cromwell's office. Cromwell was furious and keelhauled Wyatt that he had breached his strict instructions. Cromwell said that Wyatt had been banished from the court at the order of King Henry. Cromwell also repeated several times that Wyatt had had to go home, to his family castle, and that nothing had been going to change in the coming months. When Thomas Wyatt returned to Allington Castle, his father _Sir Henry Wyatt_, who had been one of _King Henry VII's_ Privy Councilors and thus knew very well how the bureaucratic system had worked, scolded at Thomas and assured him that he had to forget about Anne Boleyn because King Henry would never release her from the Tower of London. Henry Wyatt told his son that it was impossible to persuade the King that she had been innocent. The father told Thomas many times that the young poet had to resign himself to the fact that Anne Boleyn would be executed soon. Starting from that moment, Thomas Wyatt spent much time at the local Church, spending endless nights and days on his knees and praying for Anne's life, imploring God to bring to reason King Henry and spare Anne from the Tower. Yet, his prayers didn't help and soon he learnt about the date of Anne's execution after the birth of her child.

Despite his parents' boisterous protests, Thomas again went to London. He wanted to see Anne's last day and her last hour. He watched from distance how Anne Boleyn had been burnt at the stake. He pressed himself to the stone wall, which shielded him from general view, and observed how flame was embracing her body with each passing second. He even didn't see Anne's face because it was covered with the white cotton piece of fabric. He craved to see the face of his beloved woman for the last time in his life, but he had no chance. Thomas was stunned that King Henry had decided to burn Anne at the stake instead of having her beheaded, like he ordered with other "traitors". At that moment he hated the King as much as he had never hated somebody else before. He didn't watch the execution till the end and left somewhere in the middle as he was unable to see how Anne's body was mouldering, the pile of grey ashes marking her death.

It was when Wyatt who wrote the vibrant and colorful epitaph to everything what happened to Anne and four innocent executed men. The epitaph clearly showed his true feelings and opinion of the matter, the words contrasting the poet's great grief with his hidden contempt for the malicious things that were done to vilify Anne Boleyn and her falsely predicated lovers.

_These bloody days have broken my heart:_

_My lust, my youth did them depart,_

_And blind desire of estate._

_Who hastes to climb seeks to revert:_

_Of truth, circa Regna tonat._

Although he was in Henry's relative favor and spent much time at the royal household, Thomas Wyatt pretended that he greatly liked and respected King Henry, while in reality he despised the King whom he considered being capable of loving only himself in the first place and what he couldn't have, as well as power and opulence. In addition, Henry was a man who took Anne from him, and Thomas never forgot about that. But Anne loved the King of England, and the poet didn't want to spoil her life, wishing her only her happiness. Thomas let Anne go to the King and remained her good friend, never talking about their past relations. When Henry set out to win Anne's heart by the treaty of his marriage to Anne, he had the moments of open rivalry with Henry, and once the King made an occasion to warn Wyatt off. Wyatt did everything possible to dissociate himself from the rumors about his affair with Anne. To do that, he regularly told his friends how much he loved to devote his poems and sonnets to the most intelligent and the most beautiful women at the court, stressing that only women of the suitable type were muses for him and giving examples of poems written in the honor of such ladies. His tactics was directed to make the courtiers well aware of his appreciation of Anne Boleyn and several other females at the Tudor court as muses for the poet who supplied him with an afflux of inspiration to write. His strategy worked, and soon the nasty rumors subsided.

Thomas believed that the investigation of Anne's conduct that was presumptively indecent and degrading took some time, during which Henry played possum and treated Anne as if nothing had happened and as if he had no cause for displeasures. Wyatt had a great aversion to the King's strategy, not understating why the King himself couldn't have asked Anne whether the charges against her had been true. After Henry's betrayal of Anne's love and all his cruelty to her and their daughter, Wyatt hated King Henry so much that he was ready to rush to the King's residence and murder the King there. He didn't have that God would have punished him for Henry's death because the King had already engaged himself into the bloodshed by executing and tormenting innocent people who fell out of grace and displeased him, who refused to acknowledge him as the Supreme Head of the Church of England, and who stood between his carnal lust and the future marriage, the latter group represented by Anne Boleyn and _Catherine of Aragon_. The only thing that prevented Thomas from being driven to the verge of his own sanity and from making rushed decisions was the necessity to ensure the safety of his own family – his old mother Anne Skinner, his father Sir Henry Wyatt, and his sister _Lady Margaret Wyatt Lee_, the favorite of Queen Anne and her former lady-in-waiting. Had he publicly displayed his true feelings for the King, he would have been executed and his family would have been stripped of their wealth and estates.

After the execution of Anne Boleyn in December 1536, Thomas spent countless months at his family castle in Kent. He caught cold and was sick for more than three months. He had fever and high temperature and was always calling for Anne. Terrified, his parents called for a local priest many times, but Thomas was still clinging to life. In the end of the spring, he finally began to recover, but he was very weak. During his sickness, he lost much weight and was extremely thin, like mere skin and bones, with dark circles under his eyes. A tree of blue veins was visible on his neck. The physician said that Thomas needed several months of rehabilitation and instructed him to stay in the bed. As a result, the summer and the beginning of the autumn were spent in the bedchamber when Thomas Wyatt expressed his pain in writing numerous love poems and sonnets in the honor of Anne Boleyn. At the beginning of October, he visited Lady Mary Stafford's household in Staffordshire and met the baby Arthur who was the King's small copy. He also gave some money to Anne's sister, but she thanked him and didn't take it, saying that her father financially helped her and that they had enough to live on. Having spent nearly all the day with Mary, Thomas left for Allington Castle.

Thomas Wyatt didn't know what to do. Anne Boleyn was gone. She was dead. The only thing that he had from Anne was the locket she had once given him, and he kept it with singular delight, wearing it about his neck, under his shirts and near his heart. He would never see her again. Nothing would ever change. He couldn't reverse the hands of the clock and save her. It was impossible. He knew that he had to resign to the fact that she was dead, but it appeared to be beyond his ability. Thomas loved Anne more than anything in the world. He missed her so much. She didn't deserve to die being burnt at the stake, like a common witch. He knew that Anne had deceived King Henry because she hadn't been a virginal girl when Henry had slept with her for the first time. Thomas Wyatt was Anne Boleyn's first man, a man who took her virginity and who loved and worshiped her, but their relationship was doomed to remain a mystery and it would be a mystery forever, like he had promised Anne it would be. Their relationship started after Anne's engagement to the Earl of Northumberland had been broken by Cardinal Wolsey as their parents were against the marriage. Anyway, Anne never slept with other men once she fell in love with King Henry and when Henry began to seriously court her. She didn't betray Henry with those innocent men whom the King had murdered in order to dispose of Anne and take a new wife. Anne was innocent and didn't deserve her barbaric death. The meeting with Arthur shattered his heart, heartache shooting across his mind like a stabbing dagger. He hated and despised the King beyond everything. He was heartbroken. He was lost. He was alone in the whole world.

* * *

_**October 16, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

After King Henry had banished Thomas Cromwell from his offices and ordered him to stay at home till his personal instruction, Henry's thoughts drifted to the French Ambassador Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion. Henry knew that Chabot was one of the most entrusted people in King François' entourage. Although it was true that Chabot visited England twice on his diplomatic missions in 1533 and 1534, he wasn't a type of a courtier whom the King of France could have sent to live at the foreign court permanently. Philippe de Chabot was the member of the so-called _King's Triumvirate_, consisting the most influential and entrusted people in the King of France's entourage, including Cardinal François de Tournon, Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France, and Philippe de Chabot himself. Henry wondered whether François had charged Chabot with a particular mission aimed at the disturbance of Henry's peace by bringing back the facts of the Whore's execution and life.

Yet, Henry's people hadn't reported about any strange activities undertaken by Chabot in the past several weeks. It seemed that he wasn't involved in the distribution of the pamphlets in England. Another variant was that Chabot and his accomplices had acted with excessive caution as they had thought out the plan in advance, in each and every little detail. At the same time, King François had no serious reasons to blacken the reputation of Thomas Cromwell, Henry mused. Henry also knew that François had become very cautious and crafty after his defeat at Pavia. Although François was leading the same lavish, opulent life at the French court after he had been released from his captivity in Madrid, the King of France's mind seemed to become like a swampland for onlookers. In the past years, François acted as it fitted the circumstances, at times breaking his word, and circumstances often changed. Henry didn't know what to think about the entire situation.

"Bring the French ambassador to me!" King Henry demanded harshly. "Bring him immediately!"

In half an hour, the French ambassador to England, Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion, stood in the Presence Chamber in front of King Henry. He bowed to the King and managed a smile on his face. Henry was pacing the room back and forth, not looking at Chabot.

Philippe de Chabot knew why he was ordered to attend a private audience with King Henry. The King of England wanted to know about the pamphlets issued in France, translated into English, and made public for the common people of England. He sighed heavily, preparing for the verbal battle with King Henry. King François wrote to Chabot that he had to remain cool, showing no sign that he knew what was going on around Cromwell and that François initiated the attacks at Henry's chief minister. King François also assured Chabot that if King Henry had ordered to put him under home arrest at his chambers and if Henry had sent an Envoy to François asking for the official permission to interrogate Chabot, François would have never agreed with the English King's demands. Chabot only hoped that Henry was reasonable enough not to throw him to the Tower of London and execute him without François' sanction. Henry had no proof that Chabot's people had distributed the pamphlets through numerous hired mercenaries who would never learn the name of the person who hired them. After the job had been done, Chabot's people departed to France, leaving their master face to face with the furious English King. Soon other mercenaries were supposed to arrive in England in order to distribute the critical book about Thomas Cromwell's role in the Reformation, leaving immediately after the distribution of the book was finished. The worst thing that Philippe de Chabot expected was his forced deportation from England back to France.

Philippe de Chabot was more or less calm. As King François had learnt that King Henry had financed the Emperor's campaign against France in Italy in the 1520s, François needed the most entrusted person to be as close to Henry as possible. Chabot was an ideal candidate for that mission. When King François made him the French ambassador to England in 1536, Chabot gladly accepted the position. He was in the King of France's great favor and was proud of being charged with such confidential missions as he had in England. However, the recent orders from François unnerved Chabot because he didn't comprehend François' sudden interest in Anne Boleyn's deal and the French King's willingness to slander the name of Thomas Cromwell. He knew that François had been using him as a pawn in the mysterious dark game. François was a spider, and Chabot only helped him weave the cobweb.

King Henry stared at Philippe de Chabot, his eyes shooting daggers. "Your Excellency, we know that these scandalous dirty pamphlets were issued in France and brought to England." He narrowed his eyes. "How can you explain this? Does our _brother_ François know about it?"

Philippe de Chabot shrugged nonchalantly. "Your Majesty, I beg my pardon, but I have no idea." He shrugged again. "Like you, I had a chance to read the pamphlets only after they were distributed in your kingdom," he replied politely, shrugging. "Actually, I am not sure that the pamphlets were issued in France. Maybe it is just a vexatious mistake." He was playing a hard game with the King.

Henry approached Chabot and grabbed the collar of his doublet. "Your Excellency, I order you to contact François and ask him whether the pamphlets were produced in France and why they were distributed in England. Notify François that we must have his answer immediately."

Chabot didn't blink at Henry's violence. "His Majesty King François is still in Italy. As far as I know, not many people are allowed to see him because his life and the life of the new Queen of France must be preserved after several assassination attempts. The regular correspondence with King François is also rather limited at the moment. It may be very difficult to contact King François," he elucidated.

King Henry stepped back from Chabot. "I don't care how you contact him, Your Excellency. You must do what I order. Otherwise I will imprison you at the Tower, and you will be put to the rack."

Chabot feigned an innocent expression on his face. "You Majesty, I beg my pardon, but I am the loyal subject of France. I am not the subject of England. To arrest me and imprison me at the Tower, you must have an official permission of His Majesty King François, who is my lord and my sovereign."

Henry felt anger running through his veins. The ambassador's boldness enraged him. He came to Chabot and gripped the collar of his doublet. Chabot didn't move. "Silence!" he voiced a thunderous command, his aquamarine eyes reduced to slits. "How dare you talk to me, the King of England, in such an impolite manner? When did France become a country of ill-mannered nobles?"

"Your Majesty, the most benevolent sovereign of England, I am truly sorry if you found something offensive in my words. I didn't mean that," Chabot said politely. Confidence never left his voice and his posture. He treated Henry with ceremoniousness and politeness, yet insisting on the impossibility of his arrest. "My words just follow the rules of international diplomacy."

"Get out! Get out!" Henry bellowed. He released the French ambassador and walked away. Then he swung around to face Chabot, pointing an index finger at him. "Remember, Your Excellency, that I need a quick answer from your master."

Philippe de Chabot made a gallant bow to King Henry. Then he was gone.

* * *

_**October 17, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, was in his private chambers when the French ambassador Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion, paid him a visit. Chabot handed Henry Percy the letter with a red seal. It was a letter from Anne Boleyn. The French ambassador told the Earl of Northumberland that King François would always be happy to provide the refuge in France for him in case he found his life or his freedom on the English land in danger. When Henry Percy asked why King François was ready to give him possible refuge in France, the ambassador shrugged and said that he had been just an intermediary in communication.

Henry Percy decided that he would probably find an answer in the letter. He unfolded it and began to read. The handwriting was so familiar that his heart was ready to explode in excitement.

_Dear Henry,_

_I am doing very well. I hope you can say the same about yourself._

_I know that you have been trying to become closer to Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, in order to press him to report to King Henry my last confession when I swore my innocence of all charges brought against me._

_Henry, please don't ask Archbishop Cranmer to talk to King Henry about my last confession right now. Not now. It is better to do it later. You probably know that the incriminating pamphlets against Thomas Cromwell were issued and distributed in England. Soon the critical book about Cromwell's role in the Reformation will be published and distributed. It will produce a great scandal among the common people because the materials slander Cromwell's name, stating that he designed my downfall and that I was innocent. Please wait for a couple of months after the distribution of the critical book, letting English people have time to read and to think. Amid the mess about my innocence proclaimed by the materials, Archbishop Cranmer will have a plausible reason to disclose to King Henry my last confession. I am sure that Archbishop Cranmer would want to ease his conscience, thinking that he may help an innocent woman to clear her name after her death._

_Please be aware that it was Jane Boleyn, my brother's widow, who accused me of incest with George. It came as an utter shock to me, but I finally accepted it for granted. I still don't know why she betrayed the Boleyns in such an unashamed way._

_Thank you for helping my daughter Elizabeth financially after her father has refused to acknowledge her as his own child._ _I don't know how I will be able to repay you for everything you did for me. I am praying that God will protect you from all the dangers and threats on your way._

_Please be aware that in case of any danger for your life or freedom, you should contact the French Ambassador Philippe de Chabot. He will organize your trip to France for refuge. Chabot knows nothing – he is just an intermediary._

_Please burn this letter after you read it._

_With all my love and devotion,_

_AB_

The Earl of Northumberland put the parchment to the flame of the candle. For half a minute he was witnessing how sheet of paper was burning in the flame. Then he turned to face Philippe de Chabot_._

"Monsieur de Chabot, thank you for delivering this letter to me," Henry Percy said with gratitude.

The ambassador bowed. "You are welcome, your lordship."

Henry Percy wasn't a fool. He had one thought which he wanted to check, and he asked straightforwardly. "Monsieur de Chabot, if I may ask, where is currently His Majesty King François?"

"His Majesty King François spent the whole summer in the Republic of Venice. Now His Majesty is in Piedmont," Chabot replied politely.

After the French Ambassador had left, Henry Percy poured himself a glass of wine. He heard rumors that King François had married a brave noblewoman who had saved his life in the city of Venice. He was stunned with the secrecy around the marriage because the name of the bride wasn't announced on the ground of the preservation of the Queen's life. And now he was suddenly contacted by the French ambassador who brought to him the letter from Anne. Anne also found her refuge in Venice, and King François spent summer there. There were so many coincidences in that matter. Henry admitted that King François and Anne could have met each other in Venice and had become allies. He remembered about the pamphlets and decided to act in accordance with Anne's recommendation. Was King François helping them to organize the downfall of Thomas Cromwell? Why was he doing that? And even more extraordinary, paradoxical question popped into his mind. Was Anne the same woman who saved King François in the Cathedral and whom he married? It sounded like a mad, improbable thing to assume, but Henry Percy didn't know what to think. In addition, the fact that Jane Boleyn had betrayed George and Anne was monstrous. Henry didn't know what to think because the truth was too dreadful to believe. He was confused.

* * *

_**October 20, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

Despite Queen Jane's confinement, King Henry wanted to entertain himself and organized grand festivities at the palace. It seemed that all the courtiers enjoyed the evening, excluding one woman – _Jane Parker Boleyn, Viscountess Rochford_, the wife of the deceased George Boleyn who was executed in May 1536 on the charge of incest with his sister Anne Boleyn and high treason. Lady Jane Rochford was accepted in Queen Jane's household in February 1537, in a little less than a year after the execution of her husband. Queen Jane was so kind that she didn't blame Jane Boleyn for her husband's sins and easily accepted her back at the court, given her a position as her lady-in-waiting at her household.

As a lady-in-waiting to Queen Jane, Jane Boleyn spent much time in the Queen's chambers, which was especially important now when the Queen of England was supposed to give birth to her child the other day. Jane often spent the whole day with the Queen. Today was one of the few days when Jane wasn't at the Queen's side and thus attended King Henry's banquet. Unlike many other female courtiers, Jane Boleyn wasn't dressed in the elegant fashionable clothes of luxurious fabrics and of elaborate designs. She was wearing the plain austere dark brown gown with tight sleeves and the front embroiled with some pears. As the majority of ladies at the court, Jane was wearing the classic English hood, and a string of pearls was weaved into her loose blonde hair.

Jane was in the crowd of the courtiers in the grand hall, trying to find her way to the place with fewer dancing and laughing people. In the past months she didn't like laughter, and expression of her face was often gloomy and dark. She didn't speak much and usually only answered if she was asked. When she falsely accused George and Anne of committing incest, Jane plunged herself into the great gamble, and the first conclusion of the round one was triumphant for her because she was free and her husband was dead. Yet, it didn't seem to be a foregone conclusion as the recent events at the court showed. She was very nervous and tongue-tied after the pamphlets against Thomas Cromwell had been circulated in England and especially after Cromwell had been banished from the court. Every day she questioned what would happen to Cromwell, realizing that the downfall of the King's chief minister might have become her own downfall.

Continuing to walk in the crowded banqueting hall, Jane finally found an empty place in the hall. She leaned against the wall and stared ahead at the courtiers. Suddenly, she felt her knees trembling. She didn't know why the French ambassador Philippe de Chabot was looking at her so often. She often caught his scrupulous, studying gaze at herself. It was a cat-at-a-mouse gaze, as though the ambassador had been tracking her down as a criminal. She always felt uncomfortable under that gaze. Then Philippe de Chabot turned his head from her, and Jane sighed with relief. She had heard that Philippe de Chabot would come back to France soon after the New Year as a new French Ambassador would succeed him. It would be a relief for her. Had she known what the French ambassador was planning, she wouldn't have been so calm.

Jane hurried to leave the overcrowded rooms, going back to her small room. She left the grand party as she wanted to be as far from the dancing courtiers as possible. She didn't want to witness the extravagant festivities. She wanted loneliness. Jane was walking through the corridors of the palace. She quietly made her way to her bedchamber and entered the small room.

As Jane lit the candles on the only desk in her bedchamber, she swept her eyes over the room, her gaze stopping at the desk near the window. She swallowed hard because she saw the letter there, which hadn't been there before. She went to the table and took the parchment into her arms. It was neither stamped nor signed and included only one sentence – "_everybody pays for his crimes_". She shuddered as she recognized the calligraphic handwriting of her deceased husband whom she helped to execute – George Boleyn's handwriting.

Jane wanted to scream in horror, but she was afraid that the courtiers would hear her cries. If she screamed, it would be a wild, violent cry. To suppress her desire to cry at the top of her lungs, she clenched her teeth and started beating her tongue, feeling a taste of her blood in her mouth. She moved back to the bed and landed there. She was undressed and was lying on the bed for at least an hour before she was able to think clearly. Her right hand was still squeezing the dreadful letter.

It was undoubted for her that the letter was written in George's handwriting. How could this letter be here, in her chamber? George was dead, in purgatory or in hell, paying for his carnal sins as he became the lover of the musician Mark Smeaton. No, it wasn't possible – her mind was playing jokes with her. Yet, somehow the letter appeared in her room.

Jane didn't wish to believe that George returned from hell to make her pay for her crime as she accused him of having an incestuous relationship with his sister Queen Anne Boleyn. It was true that Jane lied to Thomas Cromwell when he interrogated her. Jane lied and would have repeated her lies under oath if it was necessary, even though she had known the harsh consequences of George's treason for herself. If George had been found guilty of treason, all their possessions would have been confiscated by the Crown. Consequently, if George had been executed and stripped of all his titles, she would have been left penniless, with only her jointure to rely on for her living. If George had died on the scaffold, she would have transformed into a disgraced widow of a traitor, banished from the court and scorned by everybody. She was ready to reconcile with the thought that her future was the darkest. She resigned to the fact that she would probably never wear expensive dresses again, would never attend tournaments and festivities at the court, and would never eat from silver and gilt plates, depending on her parents' charity fort he erst of her life. The lands and the estates weren't important for Jane Boleyn – all what she wanted was to have a real way out of her dreadful marriage to George.

During her interrogation, Jane was bombarded by multitudinous questions that were both unflagging and incessant, but the general line was clear – Cromwell wanted something that could have condemned Anne Boleyn to death. At first, Jane supplied Gromwell with much circumstantial froth that could have been used against Anne and against any man whose name slipped from Jane's tongue. Then she was directly asked about the probability of an incestuous relationship between George and Anne. After a short pause in the interrogation, Jane grasped what she must have said to the King's chief minister to be free from her cursed matrimony. As a result, she lied without any hesitation, accusing Anne of having a flagitious incestuous relationship with George. At that moment, Jane felt that even Cromwell had been astonished with her categorical assertion about Anne and George. When the interrogation ended, the preposterous charge that George had fulfilled the role of the dutiful brother by offering himself as a natural father for the King's future son was confirmed by Jane's words. After she had finished her testimony, she knew that her chances of staying a wife rather than a widow appeared to be slim. George's fate was sealed.

Jane was humiliated and disgusted with her marriage. Her husband abandoned her bed for the man's bed and didn't dare to deny it when she confronted him with a question. It was true that Anne Boleyn loved George as a brother and they were very close, so that Jane was convinced that Anne would never believe her that George had been regularly sleeping with Mark Smeaton. Jane wanted divorce, but it was clear that nobody from Thomas Boleyn, Anne Boleyn, or King Henry would approve of her idea of divorcing her husband or being permanently separated from him. There was no single person who could help her to be separated from George, and she was trapped in her doomed marriage. Cromwell offered Jane a way out of her misery and she accepted it. She wanted George to pay for her pain and sorrow she had to endure throughout their marriage. She even didn't dare to think that she had condemned not only George, but also an innocent woman – Queen Anne Boleyn. Queen Anne was arrogant and was not always kind to Jane, and many people hated her. Jane used that moment and accused her sister-in-law. No, she did everything correctly. George committed a mortal sin – sodomy – and was punished for it. Anne Boleyn was doomed and didn't give the King her son, also being punished. Jane had nothing to repent.

Shocked and perplexed, Jane Boleyn stood from the bed. She came to the window and sat there, placing herself within the window embrasure, arms wrapped around her legs, her profusion of golden curls loose on her shoulders, meeting the silver medallion at her chest. As she stared down, she again saw the letter in her hand and began to cry. Soon her eyes were so full of warm tears that she could barely see something else. Why was George tormenting her even after his death? He paid for his carnal mortal sins when he was executed. He degraded and tormented her when he was alive. Why did she have to suffer even after his death?

Jane went back to her narrow bed and slid under the bedcovers. She wanted sleep to claim her, desperately hoping that today George and Anne wouldn't come to her in her dreams and accuse her of their deaths. However, she was mistaken. She woke up in cold sweat in early morning hours after the same dreadful nightmare with headless George and Anne with burnt skin. They again convicted her of her lies that condemned them to death. In her dream Jane saw how heedless and bloodstained George was standing near her bed, holding his head in his hands and laughing at her. He wasn't speaking – he was laughing at the top of his lungs. Then George's laugh faded away and he told her that he would haunt her till her dying day. It was a constant nightmare for Jane Boleyn, and the worst was that she didn't know when Anne and George would stop haunting her. Then she awoke, opening her eyes and staring into the darkness. Headless George again appeared in front of her, the upper part of his body covered in blood. She screamed and cupped her face with her hands, afraid to look ahead. Then George disappeared and she was alone in the room. Did he come to her or was she dreaming? Jane Boleyn spent the rest of the night sobbing.

Next morning Jane joined many courtiers as they walked in a procession into the stone chapel to spend the morning in prayer and meditation. Although it was rather warm in the chapel, she was stiff with cold, her limbs trembling under the muslin fabric of her gown. Jane wanted to be at the Church and to pray, begging George not to haunt her every night. While she was sitting on the wooden pew and was looking at the altar, she silently confessed to herself in their sins and then participated in the sacred Mass. She took an oath that she would worship God and the King till her dying day if only George and Anne stopped visiting her in her dreams and sending her letters. However, God didn't answer to her; instead, she again heard George's words that she had needed to confess in order to avoid eternal damnation of her soul, and that threat was screaming in her ears. Unable to remain at the church, she blessed herself with the cross and walked to the exit under the astounded glances of the courtiers.

In the next week, Jane received two more parchments from George. In one of them George asked her to reveal the truth to King Henry about her lies by her own or when she would be asked by the King's counselors if she was arrested. In another note George wrote that Jane would broil and frizzle in hell after her death if she didn't confess in her crimes. Jane was in abject horror. She thought that she was going mad. She always burnt the letters after she had read them.

Jane Boleyn didn't know that she had received the parchments which had been left in her chamber by Philippe de Chabot. The parchments were written by Chabot himself as he was highly skilled at fabricating handwriting. His sovereign King François knew it and asked Chabot for help. He found the pattern of George's handwriting and just copied it, writing the same words that were written in the letter he had recently received from King François from Venice. Chabot didn't know why the French King asked him to do it, but as a loyal subject of France and a friend of the King he obeyed and followed the order. For King François, it was simply a method to influence Jane Boleyn's conscience from distance. He and Anne decided to take that rout to frighten Jane.

* * *

_I would like to take this opportunity and thank the readers who subscribed and favourited this story._

_I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help._

_This update came much sooner than I anticipated. I am also warning you that next update will be only after August 20-25._

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter._

_The pamphlets were issued, and__the revenge plan started to work. King Henry is furious. Cromwell is banished from his offices until "better" time comes. It is just a beginning of revenge. Revenge will take many chapters and will be described in great details.__Poor Henry!__Thomas Seymour went to Paris, Charles Brandon went to Italy. The presented text of the pamphlets was composed by myself. I promise that there will be many detailed chapters about revenge. I don't think that they can disclose Anne's name until the revenge is completed. Yet, there will be some surprises on the revenge path._

_Next chapter will include a scene about Jane's child. Any thoughts what will happen? Try to think and let me know:) It will be interesting._

_Well, what you think about the development of relations between Anne and King François I? They both are not in love with each other, but François feels that something is going on in his head. Anne also begins to trust him, but there is too much time left till her serious feelings for François._

_As you see, Anne Boleyn is pregnant by King François I. I want to thank everybody who answered to my question about François and Anne's children. I have already made up my mind, based on the principle of reality and rationality and taking into account my readers' wishes as well._

_Please be aware that there will be quite sensitive scenes in this story. They are not too frank and not vulgar, but sensuality is solidly embedded into this story. The show was also quite sensual and emotional. Moreover, as a writer, I like emotional scenes. You might have already remarked how I am describing the play of emotions in François and Anne's minds. I like playing the emotions of the heroes, perhaps, because I am too French._

_There will be many different scenes in this story: love scenes, festivities, hunting, dancing, usual conversations, and so on._

_I am portraying King François I as I understood his character from historical books and from the memoirs of my ancestor, the courtiers of François I's court. Thus, my François has Romantism in his character, although this feature is often denied by many historians, which is not correct. My ancestor wrote that François was rumored even to read poetry to his mistresses in the bed. He was also known for lavish festivities and parties when flowers and diamonds were given to courtiers in abundance._

_I don't want to portray Lady Mary Tudor as a villainous woman. Mary Tudor will periodically appear in the story. I think it is true that she loved Elizabeth in the beginning, and in the show series we saw how Mary grew to love Elizabeth, even despite her deep hatred for Anne Boleyn. I think over time Lady Mary's heart hardened, finally resulting in her bloody reign._

_In one of the paragraphs, I said that Thomas Wyatt and Anne Boleyn had been lovers. I am just following the show. We don't know about it for sure. I am assuming that Thomas Wyatt was Anne's lover when she was free from Henry Percy and before she fell in love with Henry. Undoubtedly, Anne Boleyn wasn't an adulteress in her marriage to King Henry, but we don't know whether she was a virgin when she became Henry's wife. She surely wasn't a woman who liked amorous escapades more than anything else. Since she was no angel, I decided that she would have her secret in this story – her affair with Thomas Wyatt. Of course, if François learnt about Wyatt's role in Anne's life, he would be displeased and they would possibly quarrel._

_The paragraphs, in which François' thoughts about his mistresses are given, are historically correct. François wasn't faithful to Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly or at least was not always faithful. They both had lovers. I think Anne de Pisseleu might have loved the King, but she also loved power, status, lavishness, and so on. My ancestor wrote in his memoirs that Anne de Pisseleu had had a long love affair with Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion, and that it had been the only love affair François I which François I would have never forgiven her if he had known about it._

_Now I am giving you some historical information about King François I's amorous escapades. I researched this question in great details because I needed it for my general understanding of his character and for the story. It wasn't difficult for me._

_King François I's known favorites and mistresses included:_

_1. Jacquette de Andron de Lansac before François married Claude and became the King of France._ _François I had a son with her.__This son was Louis de Sant-Gelais, seigneur de Lansac and de Précy-sur-Oise, Baron de la Mothe Saint-Héray, and Chevalier du Saint-Esprit. The__boy was born in 1513 or 1514, and he had enormous pension from the French treasury.__Louis de Saint-Gelais was Catherine de' Medici's friend and advocate._

_2. Jeanne Le Cocq, Dame de La Commune-en-Brie.__She was François I's mistress before his marriage to Claude of France._

_3. Françoise de Foix, Countess de Châteaubriant.__She was discarded after François' return from captivity in Madrid. She did not give immediate attention to the King. After a long struggle she managed to obtain property and titles for her three brothers and later became François I's mistress. Their daughter Anne died in infancy in 1521._

_4. Françoise de Pérusse d'Escars. She had one girl with François I. The girl's name was Jacquette de Lansac de Valois-Orléans-Angoulême. She was born around 1515 and died in 1533 after she had given birth to two children with Jacques II de Pons._

_5. Mary Boleyn, Anne Boleyn's sister and also Henry VIII's sister. Relations stopped approximately in around 1520 when she was summoned back to England by Thomas Boleyn._

_6. La belle Ferronnière, who is rumored to be a reputed mistress of King François I. She was presumed to be married to a certain Le Ferron. The tale says that her aggrieved husband intentionally infected himself with syphilis and passed it to the King of France through infecting his wife. It is again the theory that François I suffered from syphilis. In reality, it is very disputable theory – we don't know for sure and will probably never know._

_7. Claude de Rohan-Gie, Countess de Thoury.__She had no children with François I. She was François' mistress in the end of the 1520s till the middle of the 1530s._

_8. Marie Gaudin la Belle Babou, Dame de La Bourdaisière, who was the maid of honor of Claude of France and later of Eleanor of Austria. She was François' mistress in the 1520s and the 1530s. Presumably, they also had relations in the 1530s, something like one night stands. She was very notorious. She also was the ancestor of Gabrielle d'Estrées. Gabrielle was the greatest love of King Henry IV, who was the first King from the Bourbon dynasty._

_9. Jacqueline de La Trémoille, Countess de Sanverre.__She was married. As I said, two of her children were rumored and even named by many courtiers as François I's children. Indeed, her two youngest children were given enormous pensions from the French treasury, which might be a sign that they were the King's children._

_10. Péronne de Pisseleu. She was a lady-in-waiting to her sister Anne de Pisseleu and was François' occasional lover. He had no children with her._

_10. Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes. She was the most infamous, the most influential, and the cruelest favorite of King François I. She is his grand favorite, as you know. François I didn't have any illegitimate offspring with Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, and she didn't have any children with any other man. It was rumored that she was barren (also from the memoirs). She will play an important role in this story and in the intrigues around Anne and François._

_François I officially claimed only three children as his natural bastards:_

_1. Jacquette de Lansac de Valois-Orléans-Angoulême with Françoise de Pérusse d'Escars_

_2. Anne de Valois-Orléans-Angoulême with Françoise de Foix_

_3. Nicolas de Valois-Estouteville with an unknown woman. Nicolas' mother is unknown. With a high probability, he was a son of a lady from the d'Estouteville family. François gave that family Duchy Estouteville and County de Saint-Pôl._

_ It is not known why he officially claimed only these children._

_Well, enough historical details._

_Let me know what you like and dislike in this chapter and in the story in general. Reviews are always appreciated, including criticism, provided that it is well grounded. I know that summer heat makes you lazy, but find a minute for a feedback. Thank you in advance._

_When you write a long chapter, it is quite probable that there will be typos and even some errors. If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message._

_Thank you for reading this chapter._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**God's punishment**

_**October 23, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

Streaming with perspiration and utterly exhausted, Jane Seymour was resting on her canopied, curtained bed with a head sheet laid over the pillow resting on a sheet-draped bolster. Despite being very tired, Jane was overjoyed because she had just succeeded where others had failed. The labor was time-consuming and took two days, and Jane lost her conscience several times during the process of her child's delivery into the world. But all the troubles were negated by the excellent result – Jane gave birth to King Henry's son, the legitimate heir to the throne of England and the Prince of Wales. Jane did it. She succeeded. Queen Catherine and the Harlot Anne Boleyn were incapable of giving a son to the King. Jane was blessed with a son because she had been an obedient, loyal, and loving wife. Jane said the same things to herself several times. Now Jane and her family were safe. She gave a precious, long-awaited son to her husband. She was the best wife Henry could have wished to have, she mused. Henry would love her for the rest of her life and from the bottom of his heart. Jane's mind was clouded with dreaming about her future life.

Standing near Jane's bed, Lady Mary Tudor bent down her head. She was smiling with a bright smile. "Your Majesty, you have done it! My father has a son and I have a dear brother," she said joyfully. Mary realized that she wasn't the heir to the throne anymore, but she liked Jane and accepted her as the Queen of England.

Jane smiled with a slow, vague smile. "Lady Mary, I am so happy." Her voice was weak and tired.

"Your Majesty, you have given my father and England such a precious gift," Lady Mary declared.

"Lady Mary, thank you for staying with me during the labor," Jane said with gratitude. She closed her eyes for an instance in exhaustion.

Lady Mary took the small bundle in her hands and began to cradle the child. She was happy that her father had a son now. At the same time, she asked herself whether she would ever be allowed to marry and have her own children. Her father hadn't spoken about Mary's fate for a very long, long time. Was he at least thinking about his daughter's marriage? Mary couldn't believe that her father had abandoned the idea of making happy his dear daughter, "the pearl of his world". Mary smiled at the infant in her hands. "Your Majesty, you can hold your son now," she said gently.

Jane opened her eyes. She smiled broadly as Mary handed her newborn son. "My dear baby, my dear son," she purred. She placed a kiss on the soft cheek of her son. "You are our small Prince of Wales."

For Jane her son was a small wonder. He was perfect. It didn't matter that his birth took two long and difficult days, and all the pain she had endured was well worth it. An instinct of a mother filled her heart with softness, tenderness, and love to the small creature in her hands.

_Edward Seymour, 1st Earl of Hertford,_ also was in the Queen's chambers. Edward frowned as he didn't like two things. Firstly, he didn't like that the child looked so pale, his skin almost bloodless. He tried to attribute it to Jane's natural paleness, but there was something unnatural in that child. He noticed it even from distance. Secondly, the child wasn't crying, and the silence of the child disturbed him. Nobody heard any loud cry and whimpering neither when the child was born nor in the aftermath. Edward found that to be suspicious.

Edward Seymour's eyes wandered across the room, skipping happily twittering Lady Mary and Queen Jane with the child in her hands. His eyes stopped on Doctor Linacre whose expression was so distant and so impenetrable that Edward felt shiver running down his spine. Why wasn't the doctor as happy as the mother of the child? What did the iron mask on his face cover? Was it fear or gloominess?

King Henry stormed into the bedchamber and rushed to Queen Jane's bed. He was on the brink of happy madness and blind rapture when he was told that he had finally had a son. As soon as he heard that the labor was finished, Henry nearly ran to the Queen's chamber, stumbling into the courtiers whom he met on his way. The first thought that came into his mind was that he had done everything correctly when he had married Jane so quickly after the death of Anne Boleyn.

Jane smiled. "Your Majesty, do you want to hold your son?" She handed the bundle to the King.

Henry smiled happily, his white teeth luminescent. "My son, my son! Thanks God!" he exclaimed. "I will name my son Edward since it is a happy name for the King. He will be the great King Edward."

"He is England's Prince," Jane said with a smile.

Henry accurately took the infant in his hands. He automatically began to cradle the child. The boy opened his aquamarine eyes, the same color as his father's. As though mesmerized, Henry continued cradling the child for several minutes. The child was looking at his father, but he didn't cry – he was very quiet. Henry was dumbfounded, turning his face to Doctor Linacre. "Doctor Linacre, why is my son so quiet? Why isn't my son crying?"

Doctor Linacre shrugged helplessly. "The child wasn't crying when he was born."

Henry frowned. "Why, Doctor Linacre?"

Queen Jane and Lady Mary Tudor exchanged worried glances. Edward Seymour shuddered. They all stared at Doctor Linacre in anticipation. Edward had bad foreboding, and that thought suffocated him.

Doctor Linacre sighed heavily. "Your Majesty, your son is quite a healthy boy in his physical characteristics, although he is a little pale. The boy has a strong complexion." He paused, thinking how to say what he suspected. "However, I think that there are some problems with the child."

Jane nearly jumped from the bed. Exhaustion had faded away at the doctor's words. "What is wrong with my son, Doctor Linacre? What is wrong?"

Lady Mary bent down to Jane. "Your Majesty, please calm down. You have just given birth to the Prince. You cannot overexcite yourself."

After an obscure pause, King Henry finally spoke. "Doctor Linacre, please tell me the truth." His face betrayed his fear and anxiety.

"I suspect that the child is dumb and, perhaps, deaf," the physician answered. "I am very sorry, Your Majesty. We need more time to observe the child to be able to make proper conclusions. Probably, something will change for the better over time."

King Henry couldn't tolerate it any longer. "For the better? What could change for the better if the child is deaf and dumb?" he roared in despair. "He won't be named Edward! He will be named by any other name, but not Edward!" His voice took a higher octave. "Edward is a name for the Prince of Wales and for a healthy child!" His son in his hands stirred a peg, but no cry followed. Henry handed the child to Lady Mary. "Is it a curse? What the hell is going on?" he screamed and stormed out of the room, loudly slamming the door behind him.

Queen Jane began to cry. She was sobbing uncontrollably for quite a long time. She failed Henry. Her son was a defective child who would never become the Prince of Wales and the King of England. She failed her family. She was no better than the Harlot, Anne Boleyn, who at least was capable of bearing a healthy daughter for the King. Jane was dismayed and defeated in all possible and impossible aspects. As she couldn't stop crying, Doctor Linacre finally gave her a calming draught.

Shocked and perplexed, Lady Mary Tudor took the child away from the Queen's chambers, leaving Queen Jane alone with her ladies-in-waiting, including Jane's sister Lady Elizabeth Seymour Cromwell and the notorious Lady Jane Boleyn_._

Edward Seymour was shocked and disappointed. Moreover, he was frightened because now the Seymours would be in danger if the King wanted to get rid of Jane. Edward didn't wish to lose his power and status, which he had been granted only because his relationship to the Queen of England. What should the Seymours do now? They could only hope that Doctor Linacre made a mistake in his diagnosis, but it was unlikely. The only hope was that the King would give to Jane another chance to conceive the child. Yes, Jane must get pregnant again as soon as possible.

The greatest danger was the Harlot's son who was placed in the household of Lady Mary Stafford, Anne Boleyn's sister and the Great Prostitute. Edward Seymour thought that King Henry might turn to the Harlot's son in an attempt for consolation. Edward just hoped that the King would continue considering the Harlot's son to be a bastard and a product of an abominable incestuous union.

* * *

_**November 1, 1537, Austin Friars, London, England**_

The bleak, nearly invisible rays of cold autumn sun illuminated the roof of Thomas Cromwell's brick two-storied house, with the street frontage possessing the third storey and the garrets. In London Cromwell had almost always lived at Austin Friars. Becoming one of the key figures at the court, he purchased many surrounding properties at Austin Friars outright at a cost of five hundred pounds. Cromwell had always loved his mansion which was one of the greatest private houses in London. His house was a domestic residence for Cromwell and his family, as well as an administrative base and an urban palace for accepting important guests, potentially even the King himself.

However, now Cromwell's mind was very far from being fascinated with his great mansion. He continued living at his house and didn't come to his office during the past month because he acted in accordance with the King of England's instructions. He was patiently waiting for the invitation from the King to return to the court, but nothing changed with the time passing. What could he do for the timing being? He could only wait.

Every day Thomas Cromwell was reading the pamphlets written by the infamous French poet _Mellin de Saint-Gelais_, the pamphlets that proclaimed the truth that Cromwell had designed the downfall of Queen Anne Boleyn. There were more than ten pamphlets with different text on the same theme – Cromwell's guilt of the downfall of the innocent Queen of England.

Soon Cromwell's servants gave him the thick book printed in English but originally written in French, as Cromwell assumed. They said that the book had recently been distributed in England and that it had originally been written in French. The book was written by the French poet _Clément Marot_ and was named "_Thomas Cromwell as the evil genius of the English Reformation_"_._ With trembling hands, Cromwell opened the book and began to read.

The book contained the detailed critical analysis of Cromwell's deals during the ongoing Reformation in England, including the Dissolution of the Monasteries, many of which were good and wealthy. It was said that Cromwell had insisted on the Dissolution of the Monasteries by simply removing some of the less palatable organizations within the Church. At first, only the smaller monasteries were dissolved, and the monks were sent to the larger institutions. Marot wrote that later Cromwell had begun to claim that the monks had corrupted the larger institutions and dissolved them. The poet accused Cromwell of manipulating the definitions of good and bad monasteries with the final purpose of dissolving all the monasteries, either large or small, and with the ultimate goal of destroying the whole Church. Marot asserted that Cromwell had acted for his own benefit and in accordance with his own purposes and motives, under false grounds of corruption in many large English monasteries. Clément Marot stated that there was no corruption in many of the monasteries that had already been dissolved, underscoring that some of them had been robbed by Cromwell himself.

Clément Marot also declared that Cromwell didn't support the ideas of humanism and access to education because he wanted to confiscate all the money from the monasteries for the crown and, of course, part of the wealth for himself. Marot wrote that the monasteries were an essential part of the national welfare and educational system. The poet accused Cromwell of being an enemy of enlightenment and education in the Renaissance era. In sober fact, Marot charged Cromwell with the same topics of confrontation Cromwell had with Anne Boleyn who insisted that a part of the money obtained from the Dissolution of the Monasteries must have been used to set up more grammar schools and medical centers, as well as on other charitable purposes.

Marot declared in his book that Cromwell had introduced the Reformation legislation to legalize his own beliefs of a radical Protestant. And the poet was right as Cromwell indeed was a Protestant. Marot said that Cromwell had wanted to completely illegalize Catholic beliefs in the Ten Articles. On the ground of the above, Marot nicknamed Cromwell "_the evil genius of the English Reformation_".

As Thomas Cromwell had finished the reading of the book by Clément Marot, after drinking during the whole night, l he collapsed in the armchair near the fireplace. He was shocked and didn't know what to think about the book. His nerves betrayed him, and he found consolation in the bottle of wine.

In the morning, even in the state of terrible hangover, Cromwell began to think about the situation. The more he was thinking, the more he was convinced that _King François I of France_ had ordered to his sister Queen Marguerite of Navarre to prepare those incriminating pamphlets and the critical book on Cromwell's deals. The only question was why the King of France wanted the downfall of Cromwell. Did King François learn that King Henry had financially supported the Emperor's military campaign in Italy when the French King had been defeated and captured? But even if the King of France's spies reported about it to their master, King François was unlikely to blame Cromwell for that deceit because Cromwell didn't have much power at that time. It was Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, Lord Chancellor and the former Archbishop of Canterbury, who was playing the role of the supporter of France and who eventually strayed in order to help the Emperor with the minor chance to please him and to persuade him to support an annulment of the King's marriage to _Catherine of Aragon_. King François couldn't have blamed Cromwell for that. It meant that there was something else beneath the surface. Was it François' hatred for King Henry? Or was there something else?

Cromwell learnt that King Henry had recently had a son born with defects – deaf and dumb. Cromwell realized that the King had been in despair, and it explained why he had to spend time at home and wasn't summoned to the court to face the King after the critical book had been distributed in England.

Cromwell was afraid. He feared that something bad would happen to him. He didn't sleep well and didn't eat. If he was sleeping, his dreams were only about the deceased Anne Boleyn who was burnt at the stake as a witch. He often remembered Anne Boleyn during those days. He recalled the day of her death and the fire in which the former Queen and his archenemy had died. Now, understanding that the payback for his evil deeds would be strict and he could be executed, Cromwell wished that he had died together with Anne in that red flame. Cromwell fantasized how he would be arrested and imprisoned in a dirty stuffy cell at the Tower of London. Possibly, he would be tortured to his death. He imagined how the guards would finally appear and lead him to the scaffold. His memory produced dreadful images how he would be pushed in a kneeling position and how the executioner would grab his axe and would aim it carefully. Cromwell even saw himself without his head chopped off and being held by smiling Anne Boleyn.

Cromwell approached the window and noticed the numerous crowd of people standing near the front steps of his house at Austin Friars. The infuriated people were screaming something. As their saw his shadowy silhouette in the window on the second floor, the screams grew louder and louder. He heard everything what the people were saying about him.

"Cromwell is the evil genius of the Reformation!" a man proclaimed.

"Cromwell is a traitor," a young woman declared.

"This dishonest man dissolved good monasteries and confiscated the property for himself, not for the Crown. He robbed the King and the people," another man screamed in rage.

"Cromwell killed Queen Anne because she was against the Dissolution of the Monasteries and because she wanted to use the money for charity and education," somebody said in a high voice.

"This evil man must be arrested and beheaded," a woman screamed.

An old man grimaced. "Cromwell must be burnt at the stake, like poor Queen Anne Boleyn."

"Cromwell murdered _the Wronged Queen Anne_!" a middle-aged woman cried out.

"Queen Anne Boleyn was innocent!" a woman shouted.

"Cromwell is a murderer and a thief," a young man bawled out.

"A traitor! A traitor!" somebody bellowed.

"A heretic! Satan!" a young woman shrilled.

"A traitor! A heretic!" the crowd roared in unison.

Thomas Cromwell shuddered, his knees trembling. He couldn't stand straight anymore and slipped along the wall to the cold parquet floor. The shouts were what unnerved him the most. The extremely negative and insanely violent reactions of the common people caught Cromwell off-guard. He no longer could withstand it and started weeping from fear and horror, which seized his entire essence.

* * *

_**November 5, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

November was one of the rainiest months in Venice, and thus the number of sunny days plummeted considerably. Towards the middle of November, the city started experiencing some flooding from high tides in fall. Anyway, the weather was quiet pleasant, even if daylight was shorter. It was much warmer than the late autumn in England and even in France. The colors and the afterglows of Venice in autumn were wonderful and vivid.

Queen Anne of France, the legal spouse of _King François I of France_, or Anne Boleyn, the Marquess of Pembroke, in her former life, still was in the city. Anne was spending the majority of her time at home and rarely went outside because it was a little chilly while she wanted to preserve her health for the sake of her unborn child. At times she went outside and made a short journey on the canals on Monsieur Jean's private gondola, but these journeys were usually quite short in time.

Anne was ready to jump on the spot when she learnt that Thomas Cromwell had been shut inside his own house at Austin Friars and that he had been banished from all the offices at King Henry's order. By the time the news about Cromwell's forced solitude traveled to her, she had already read the incriminating pamphlets by _Mellin de Saint-Gelais _and the critical book of the Cromwell's role in the Reformation by_ Clément Marot._ Anne re-read many parts of the book several times, every time relishing from the thought that the people of England would finally have realized how evil and cunning Cromwell had been by nature. Of course, Anne also learnt about demonstrations and protests of the common people near Cromwell's house. Everything was the result of King François' assistance to push Cromwell down from his throne.

Anne received a letter from Henry Percy. He notified her that her daughter Elizabeth was still in exile at Woodstock Manor and that her son Arthur was doing well at her sister Mary's household. Henry also wrote that Jane Seymour had a son born deaf and dumb. Anne was horrified to hear that news about Henry's new child. She couldn't imagine that her child she was carrying at the moment would be born with incurable defects. She wasn't happy with Jane's unhappiness, pitying Jane very much. Anne admitted that Henry would be probably ready to cast Jane aside. But if it is so, how will he do it? Anne didn't want Jane's death. She hoped that Henry in his grief wouldn't proceed to the same measures he had undertaken against Anne in order to get rid of her and marry his "sweet" Jane.

Anne and her French "grandfather" were sitting in the dining room, having a later dinner. The French dinner had a delicious smell. Anne's stomach gurgled as the tantalizing aromas of the beautifully presented meal awakened her appetite. As she turned the fourth month of her pregnancy, her morning sickness stopped and her appetite was blossoming.

Anne reached out to the heaped and bulging platters strewn before her. Taking mutton by her folk, she began to eat a large delicious piece. As she was done with the piece, she took another one. "_Foie gras_ is amazing," she commented.

Jean sipped French wine. "Your Majesty, I see that you are having a great appetite." He was grinning at her, at times addressing to her by her title.

Anne nodded. "Yes, grandfather. Please call me by my first name – Anne." She didn't want to be formal with the man who saved her life. She was her only friend at that moment. Most importantly, she genuinely liked him.

"You are flourishing, Anne," Jean noted.

Anne only smiled in response. "I am feeling very well," she answered. Indeed, that pregnancy was quite easy for her. Her morning sickness had already receded. She wasn't tired. Most importantly, she wasn't under pressure and constant stress. Most importantly, she wasn't under pressure that she had to provide male heir for the throne of England. That pregnancy was the least stressful for her.

"Could you please pass me the mutton?" Jean asked.

Sitting to his right, Anne lifted the serving dish on her left and passed it. "Please take it."

"Thank you," he said with a smile.

She sipped wine. "You are welcome."

"I have some interesting news from England."

"What is it, grandfather?"

"My close friend writes that demonstrations take place near Thomas Cromwell's house. Many people gather near his house and call him a traitor, a heretic, and a murderer of _the Wronged Queen Anne_."

Anne laughed outright as she imagined the crowds of people near Cromwell's house, shouting and accusing him of various sins against the King. "I know, grandfather. Everything is because of those funny pamphlets and the critical book," she said.

Jean nodded. "Everything is going well. Cromwell's complete unmasking will happen soon." He narrowed his eyes to the slits. "And everything was arranged by His Majesty King François."

Anne sighed. She couldn't disagree, feeling obliged to François for what he had done for her. "The poets made excellent job," she answered in a neutral manner.

Jean smiled ironically. "What a dry comment!"

Anne didn't react to that irony. At that time Anne was done with her glass of wine and asked the servant to pour out for her a glass of _amaretto_. She sipped the amber liquid, relishing the almond-flavored cordial as it slithered down her throat in a warming stream. "I like _amaretto_," she said absent-mindedly.

"Don't drink the Italian liqueur too much in your condition. Wine is better."

Anne smirked. "Oh, I am drinking just a little of _amaretto_."

After a short pause, Anne heard the steady, deep voice speaking through the stillness of the room. "Anne, I just hope that now you will learn to trust King François."

Anne raised her eyebrows and stared in the emptiness of the room. Could she trust François? Should she trust him? So far he didn't betray her and did everything what he promised. Their plan was working very well. He didn't love her and she didn't love him. Their relationship was without mad passion and deep love, and it was even better. The child she was carrying will combine their lives and their blood, strengthening Anne's position in France. She will have the child of two political allies, but this child will be loved by both parents. On François' part their alliance seemed to be working. That was enough, at least for now, Anne mused. "His Majesty King François breached his own word not once," she finally spoke after a long silence.

Jean emitted a heavy sigh. "Anne, King François is the King in the first place. He does what he must do as the King of France. If he didn't acknowledge you as the Queen of England in the past, it happened not because he didn't want to do that and not because he didn't like you, but because he couldn't do that due to many reasons. There was the Pope who struggled against you and the annulment of Queen Catherine's marriage to King Henry. There was the Holy Roman Emperor who had captured King François and weakened France after _the Battle of Pavia_. King François had to maneuver adroitly between the Pope and the Emperor, and he couldn't acknowledge you as the Queen of England," he explained, hoping that she would listen to his words.

Anne finished her goblet with amaretto. "Grandfather, King François acts how it fits the current circumstances. He will champion whatever is more beneficial for his throne and for France." She tapped her fingertip on the goblet she put at the table. "If His Majesty no longer needs me, he won't champion my cause."

"The circumstances have changed," Jean contradicted.

Anne smirked. "Only because King François also wants his revenge on King Henry," she parried.

"If you are so worried about the possibility that King François will try to annul your marriage, you are not right," Jean opposed. "King François would have never done that before you got pregnant by him. Now when you are carrying his child it is utterly impossible."

"I am inclined to believe in that," Anne responded, her blue eyes giving the old man a cold glare.

Jean sighed heavily. "Anne, I think you must leave your past behind because this past blinds you."

To Jean's surprise, Anne laughed aloud at his words. "Impossible! Impossible!"

Jean stared at her with disapproval of her words. "You must try to forget the pain and the hatred you feel. You cannot live with hatred in your heart." He raised his voice. "You must forget King Henry."

Anne averted her gaze. She knew that forces of her hatred and love for Henry swirled around her, a poisonous fog licking at her heels. She was used to living amid danger throughout many months, now being helped by the mask of polite indifference, and that mask covered her pain, her love, and her hatred for Henry. She knew that Jean was correct that she had to forget Henry Tudor, but she couldn't because the man was always on her mind and many of her actions, including her marriage to the King of France, had been explained by her thirst of revenge on King Henry. When she spoke, her voice was low and cold. "I cannot forget death. I cannot forget cruel betrayal of me and my children. I loved _him_ and _he_ betrayed me, and everything I did in the past months I did to have my revenge on _him_ and _his_ repentance." Then her voice took a higher octave. "I want to have my revenge on _him_. I want _his_ repentance."

It wasn't necessary to say to whom Anne referred to – King Henry. Jean shook his head. "And you think that you still love King Henry," he added.

Anne gave a hard glare to the old man. "Maybe," she retorted.

Jean laughed. "Anne, you cannot love him because it is not love any more – it is your thirst for revenge." He took a goblet of wine and sipped it. "The borders between love and hatred are too intangible, but you surely overstepped the border of hatred."

Anne sipped more amaretto. "I don't know whether I can believe King François. I don't know whether I believe in love anymore," she confessed.

Jean put a goblet on the table. His expression softened at her frankness. "King François is very different from King Henry."

She drew a deep breath and held it for a moment. A pause followed. Then she spoke in a steady voice, staring down at her folded hands. "I don't want to drop myself in the very midst of a dark time, a time of fulfillment and utter destruction, which would surely follow any emotion in my marriage to King François."

"Anne, even if love as a fiery sickness in the blood, like yours for King Henry is, it can be cured by another love, not destructive love, but a tender, lyrical love. Destructive love is an insanity that must be cured, maybe even in death. You were near your death, Anne – you have a chance to be cured if you wish it. You don't need hatred and destructive love." He trailed off, looking at her face with frozen mimic as she looked like a marble statue, expressionless and somber. "Evil can be transformed into good, hatred into love, and a cold heart can become one aflame with emotion. With God's help, anything is possible. I am telling you this to help you, not to hurt you, though I am not sure that you will choose to listen to me. I am much older than you are, and I know what I am telling you."

Anne blinked at his words. She didn't reply. She came to Venice with the coldest of souls and hearts, prepared to live in obscurity and dreaming of revenge. Fate forced an opportunity of revenge on her, and she accepted that. She prepared herself to give everything to avenge past wrongs, to avenge her brother's death and her betrayal. It was what she wished with all her soul, and now it was within her very grasp! She could almost feel the taste of the coppery tang of revenge. She was still craving for revenge, but she also felt that something had changed. The world tilted, and she didn't know the reason. She felt that she wished to believe François, and she admitted that she even had missed their conversations. Her thoughts about François had no rhyme or reason – they were just her thoughts. Yet, revenge was kept in her breathing, venom dissolved in her blood. She was trapped in the past, but she also had her connection with the present through François and the child she was carrying. How everything would end, she couldn't say – either in the end of all her secrets or in the cold grave.

* * *

_**November 7, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

Edward Seymour, the Earl of Hertford, stormed into the Queen's chambers. He dismissed all the ladies-in-waiting of the Queen by a wave of head. He even asked Lady Elizabeth Seymour Cromwell to leave, much to Jane's surprise and Elizabeth's disappointment. The expression of Edward's face was so austere and so unpleasant that ladies curtsied and stepped backward to the door, finally leaving Queen Jane and her brother alone.

Jane opened her eyes and stared at him. "Brother," she murmured under her breath. She was still physically tired after difficult childbirth two days ago.

"Your Majesty," Edward greeted her in a ceremonious tone and bowed to her.

"Brother, when will Thomas come back to London from Paris? Did he write you?"

Edward Seymour didn't want to talk about it. He predicted that Thomas Seymour's mission to Paris would be an utter failure, which would further infuriate King Henry. "Currently, Thomas is in Paris, waiting for a private audience with Queen Marguerite of Navarre. There are some delays there, and we don't know how much time he will spend in France." He came closer to Jane's bed, leaning over her and gently stroking her blonde loose hair. He felt a great pity to Jane, but more to herself and the Seymours. "Jane, I came to talk to you, not about Thomas. You must be strong now. Our only chance is that you will get pregnant as soon as possible." His tone turned informal.

Jane gasped at those straightforward, cruel words. Her brother treated her only as an instrument that helped him received personal wealth and power at the court. He wasn't thinking about her poor son and about her unhappiness. "Edward, my son is very sick," she babbled.

Edward squeezed her hand to attract her attention. "Darling sister, you are better to remember that you failed the King. I fear that the King will no longer favor us. I fear the worst," he complained.

Jane didn't want to listen to him. "My poor son is deaf and dumb," she lisped thoughtlessly.

Edward gripped her wrists and combined them together. Feeling the pain from his hard grasp, Jane flinched and opened her eyes widely. "Listen to me, sister. You will stop crying and will act as though nothing had happened. Your will smile and try to please the King. You will be a tolerant and obedient wife. You will also try to charm and seduce the King as soon as you are churched and permitted to perform marital relations. You will sleep with the King until he gets you pregnant again." He said quickly, his teeth clenched, his face hardened.

Jane stiffened under his hard gaze. She couldn't believe that the violent man in front of her was her brother. "Edward, please leave me alone," she implored.

"Don't forget that King Henry has already had a son with the Harlot. And as far as I know the boy is healthy and has a strong resemblance to the King," Edward hissed.

"That boy is a bastard. He isn't the King's son," Jane objected.

Edward released her wrists. "The boy is the King's son," he stated.

Jane's eyes grew wide. "But Anne Boleyn was the Harlot! She slept with those executed men, including her own brother. This child is a bastard!"

Edward laughed at his naive sister. "My dear sister, Your Majesty, you are so naive," he scoffed. "At the court only Lady Mary, you, and the King himself think that the Harlot had been guilty. Lady Mary hates the Harlot for taking away her father from Queen Catherine. The King persuaded himself that the Harlot had betrayed him, and he must think so in order not to lose his mind from guilt. You, my naïve Jane, think that the Harlot was guilty because you understand nothing at the court life."

It was true. Jane had a very simple, unsophisticated mind. She understood nothing in the life of the court and its intrigues. She accepted the role her family had forced on her. She was told what she had to do and how to attract King Henry's attention when the King promised to serve her several years ago. At first Jane was doing as her family wished her to act. Later she fell in love with Henry and truly wanted to make him happy and to give him a son. And, of course, Jane was seduced by the idea of being the Queen of England, especially given the fact that she was sure that the Harlot had been an evil woman who was worse than the plague for England. Jane saw her mission in the salvation of England from the claws of the witch Anne Boleyn. And finally she failed.

Jane was stunned. Her heart constricted. She didn't know what to think. "Anne Boleyn was innocent?" she forced herself to ask.

Edward nodded. "Yes."

Jane gasped in horror. "Oh, my Lord! Oh, my Lord!" If Anne Boleyn was innocent, it meant that the King had killed the innocent mother of his son and his daughter just to marry Jane. She built her shaky happiness on the bones and blood of her female rival, and finally that happiness evolved in great trouble when her son was born deaf and dumb. Was it a punishment from Heaven?

"Calm down, sister, and pray that the King continues believing that the Harlot was guilty."

"Did you plan the Harlot's downfall?"

"No, I didn't participate. The Harlot had a powerful enemy – Cromwell, and that was enough for her. The King wanted to get rid of her to marry you."

Jane shook her head in disbelief. "She stood trial and was found guilty." She still tried to deny the fact of Anne's innocence.

Edward laughed again. "The Harlot was a lost cause, and the trial found her guilty. They did what the King wanted to have done." He leaned down again and grasped his sister's wrists. "Jane, you will live as though nothing had happened. You will be a good wife. And you will give a son to the King soon," he hissed in a low voice. "Do you understand me?"

Jane was trembling from a mixture of horror, fear, and fatigue. "Yes, brother," she said. What else could she say? She asked herself whether she would say to the King that Anne Boleyn had been innocent when the court had tried her. Jane had to admit to herself that she wouldn't do that. She wanted to be the Queen. She loved the King of England. She would have kept silent and would keep silent now. Next time God would give her a healthy son, she tried to reassure herself. It was the only way she could continue exist in the world of dark royal shadows around.

* * *

_**November 21, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice**_

Today was the special day for Anne. Her son Arthur turned one year old. She wondered how he looked now and how he was spending his first birthday. Anne longed to meet her son, but it wasn't possible at that time. Her only consolation was that Arthur was with Mary who undoubtedly loved him with all their heart. Anne ordered the best goldsmith in Venice to manufacture the set of dozen gilded toy soldiers for Arthur as a birthday gift. She couldn't give it to her son today, but she would do it in the future. She didn't doubt that she would see her soon quite soon.

Anne often received letters from François who was together with his army in Piedmont. The letters from François were always given to her by Jacques de la Brosse who was staying with her, almost ready to roll over for her sake. Today she received the new letter from François. He wrote that they were working out the plan of the future battle with the Emperor. The Emperor was rumored to equipping more than one hundred ships in order to sail to the shores of France and invade _Provence_ from the sea. Anne often remembered François even without his letters. She was worried for him and for his safety. She was also worried for her own safety. Had something happened to François, she wouldn't have known from to do. What would she do pregnant by his child and alone, even if she stayed with Monsieur Jean in Venice? One day Jean de la Brosse told Anne that François had given him the special confidential letter for Queen Marguerite of Navarre, the King's sister. It was the letter which Brosse had to give Marguerite in case of any serious troubles or his death. As she learnt that, she felt chills running up and down her spine as she imagined his death. She even began to pray for François to stay alive and to win the future war with the Emperor.

Anne was very interested in the Italian war. "Monsieur de la Brosse, when is His Majesty King François planning to have a battle with the Emperor?" she questioned.

"Your Majesty, His Majesty King François and Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France, are currently mobilizing all the French troops which are positioned partly in Piedmont and partly in Provence. They are actively travelling between Turin and Marseilles. They are also recruiting the people from the common people and train them," Jean de la Brosse supplied.

"And when will the battle happen?"

"Your Majesty, it will most likely occur after the New Year, in the spring or even in the summer. For sure it won't happen before the New Year."

"They need at least several months to recruit and train additional people. They are also working on the strategic plan of the war, as well as on the military maneuvers," Anne said more to herself than to Brosse as she speculated.

Brosse chuckled. He respected the new Queen of France because she indeed had an incredible mind. It was the first time in his life when he was talking about the military campaign with the lady. "Your Majesty is absolutely correct."

"I presume the King knows very well what is happening in Paris when he is out of the city and even out of the country," she declared in a matter-of-the-fact manner.

"The King is always well aware of his surroundings. His Majesty's sister Queen Marguerite is regularly reporting on what is going on in the country," Brosse replied officially.

Anne laughed, her brows quizzically raised. "Monsieur de la Brosse, I bet that King François has a very large network of spies who are his trusted and reliable people. I am sure that the King has such people in every country."

Jacques de la Brosse nodded. Queen Anne was a profound courtier, especially after the court of _King Henry VIII of England_ and her position as the Queen of England. The more Brosse learnt about Anne, the more astonished he was that King Henry had set her aside and had accused her of such absurd things. "Your Majesty is right," he said, a smile curving his thin lips.

Anne fluttered her eyelashes down and up. She wanted to make Brosse her friend and her spy, even if he was François' spy. She needed to establish the solid friendship contacts among the French courtiers and diplomats. Brosse was a cupbearer to the King of France, a French soldier and a diplomat, but he had been in the favor of the King only for several years. Anne was sure that François had trusted Brosse if he had stayed him with Anne. She wanted to be friends with the people whom her husband trusted and favored. It was a simple tactic, but now she wasn't able to make other conclusions as she wasn't at the French court. "And you are one of these spies?" she questioned.

Brosse chortled. He realized where Anne was going. "I am your friend, Your Majesty. I will tell you if a cloud is going to form around Your Majesty," he pledged.

Anne smiled at him. She saw the sincerity of his words. "I know, Monsieur de la Brosse. I appreciate your friendship."

Anne's thoughts drifted back to François who was recruiting people from the army. He needed to mobilize the French nation against the aggressor and the enemy – _Emperor_ _Charles V_. The common people needed to be stimulated to fight for their King. Anne understood that common people needed a fairy tale. They needed to see that they were fighting for the King and the Queen, _the Savior of the King_, who risked her life and was ready to sacrifice her own life in the honor of the King. Wasn't it their deal that their marriage would serve a political tool for François to inspire his people? Why didn't he take her to Piedmont with him to show his new Queen to common people? Was it because he cared for her and wanted to keep her safe?

François fulfilled his part of the deal by helping her to organize the downfall of Cromwell. Now it was her turn to help François and to make their alliance working at her side. The common people of France needed to see the King of France and the Queen of France together. It would give them inspiration and passion they needed to win the war. It would undoubtedly help François in his military campaign. It will also help Anne to confirm her image as _le Sauveur du Roi-Chevalier_ or _the Savior of the Knight-King_. She needed to be useful to François. She decided that she would go to Piedmont and would find François there.

Anne smiled at Brosse. "Monsieur de la Brosse, can you please organize my secret trip to Turin? I want to meet His Majesty King François there. I will be travelling as Anne de Ponthieu."

Brosse was abashed. "But, Your Majesty…"

Anne raised her hand. Then she smiled with a witching, charismatic smile. "The common people would be happy to see the King and the Queen together."

"But your face," he objected.

"You know what is happening in England now," Anne began and paused, looking at his reaction. As he nodded, she resumed speaking. "In addition, I will be able to use a cap with a hardly transparent veil on the ground of the preservation of my life. I will borrow a part of the Protestant German fashion."

"Your Majesty, but a trip in your condition… Our King will be displeased."

Anne laughed at him. "I am feeling very well. I am not sick and I am not dying – I am just in a family way. Don't worry about me." Her voice turned low and a little persuading. At the same time, there was a note of some authority in her tone. Anne couldn't be as authoritative as she used to be as the Queen of England, so that she maneuvered in her new position. She chose a combination of authority and persuasion for Brosse. "King François won't be displeased," she asserted. "And even if he is displeased, I promise that I will do my best to cool off his anger."

Jacques de la Brosse sighed heavily. He was sure that Queen Anne would be able to pacify the King-Knight if he is angered. He made such a conclusion on the basis of how the King looked at his wife when they were in Venice. Brosse was interested whether Anne had known that she had charmed the King. "Your Majesty, I would help you come to Turin. I will organize the secure and confidential trip for you," he pledged.

Anne was delighted. She would help François as much as he helped her to organize the downfall of Thomas Cromwell. François kept his word and she would do the same. She wasn't ready to stay in debt to him. It wasn't in her nature. She would do everything to be useful to François. They were excellent political allies, and she intended to use it for the advantage of both of them.

* * *

_**November 21, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

King Henry spent the last month as though he had been living in a parallel world. He even forgot about Thomas Cromwell who was still locked in his house, banished by the King to come to the office. Since the birth of his unfortunate son, Henry was leading a semblance of life, a dull and gloomy existence. He spent the first two weeks after the birth of his son locked in his bedchamber and the study room, drinking heavily to stupor and not receiving any visitors. He even forgot that Thomas Cromwell had secluded himself in his own house and hadn't left it even for a short stroll. Henry was too distressed and too disjoint from reality.

After a week of confinement in his chambers, King Henry ordered to organize the banquet in the grand hall of the palace. A lot of courtiers attended, but the general environment wasn't merry. The courtiers knew that something unpleasant and bad had happened to the King's small son, although Henry ordered to ensure that no rumors would be floating at the court. The courtiers were not in a mood for celebrations, and soon Henry realized that. After that attempt King Henry stopped any entertainments at the court. There were no jousts, no festivities, no diners, and no dancing, and only official receptions in the Presence Chamber took place from time to time. There were weeks when those official receptions were rescheduled and postponed because Henry wasn't in the mood to accept any visitors and even to be involved in the state affairs.

Henry's son Richard was christened as Richard on November 1, without his mother in attendance, as the custom was. The boy was named Richard, not Edward, because Henry didn't want to give his favorite male name to that child. Henry chose that name for his sick son because it had a symbolical meaning, being a rather unfortunate name for the previous English monarchs. Queen Jane wished his two daughters to attend the christening of their poor son. Henry decided to satisfy Jane's request and brought Elizabeth to the court from her prolonged exile at Woodstock Manor, although he wasn't very fond of that idea. Both of the King's daughters, Lady Mary Tudor and Lady Elizabeth Tudor, attended the baptism and carried the infant's train during the ceremony.

King Henry was shocked that his son was chronically sick. He pitied that small infant whom he had never visited since the birth of the boy in October. During her pregnancy Jane led a relatively quiet and calm life, being attended by the royal physicians and the best midwives in the whole kingdom. When why was the boy born sick? Given that the child was born with defects, King Henry decided not to bestow the title of the Prince of Wales on him.

Henry couldn't help but pity himself. He annulled his marriage to the Harlot Anne Boleyn who seduced him using witchcraft and bastardized their daughter Elizabeth, excluding her from succession to the throne. He also bastardized his eldest daughter Mary after he had annulled his cursed marriage to Catherine. Henry didn't have legitimate children at all. He again didn't have not only a male heir, but any legitimate heir after he had refused to invest his newborn son with the title of the Prince of Wales. All his children were illegitimate, having been bastardized by their father.

Henry executed Anne after she had committed mortal sins against Henry and England and, of course, against God. He punished those men with whom Anne shamelessly betrayed him and his love for her. He married sweet and pure Jane. He took her virginity on their wedding night, and he was sure that it was so because after their lovemaking he clearly saw the scarlet spots of Jane's blood on the bed sheets. Jane was an obedient and proper wife, an angel sent to him from Heaven to save England from the bloody civil wars for succession. At least he had thought so before his son was born. Why was God so cruel to Henry? Why did he give him so much sorrow in the marriage which promised to be heavenly and happy from the beginning? What did he do wrong? Henry felt that he had lost his way in the sophisticated labyrinth of pain and unhappiness, which followed Anne Boleyn's death. Was it God's punishment? But how could he be punished if the Harlot had paid for her crimes?

* * *

_**November 21, 1537, Stafford House, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Staffordshire, England**_

On the birthday of Anne's son Arthur, Lady Mary Boleyn Stafford and her husband William Stafford prepared the small party for the children – their daughter Anne, their son Edward, and Anne's son Arthur. Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire, and his wife Lady Elizabeth Howard Boleyn arrived for the event. This was the first time when Thomas Boleyn and Lady Elizabeth had met their grandchild Arthur. Everybody was smiling, the laughter and music around celebrators. Many gifts were given to Arthur by his grandparents and his Aunt Mary. The boy seemed to understand the merry environment around him and often smiled.

It was a happy event, at least until _Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk_, arrived at the Stafford household. At first Mary didn't want to accept "the Howard devil" as she referred to him, but her father, the Earl of Wiltshire, urged her not to alienate Norfolk in order not to become his enemy. The Duke of Norfolk was Lord High Treasurer of England and, along with Thomas Cromwell, second in power only to King Henry himself. Through sheer cunning and skillful hypocrisy, Thomas Howard managed to escape the specter of his own niece Anne Boleyn's downfall from grace and to remain at King Henry's side to advise him. Norfolk could be a dangerous enemy, and thus Thomas Boleyn persuaded Mary to stay calm and be cautious with Norfolk and to show Arthur to him. Mary sighed and agreed with her father. Thomas instructed Mary that the elder Boleyns mustn't be seen at the Stafford household, so that he and his wife locked themselves in the study room.

The Duke of Norfolk greeted Mary and William in the parlor and requested to see Anne Boleyn's son. Mary reluctantly brought the child into the parlor, but she didn't let Thomas Howard take the boy in his arms. If Norfolk was angry at Mary, he didn't show his true feelings.

"The boy is one year old now," Thomas Howard stated matter-of-factly.

Mary nodded, cradling Arthur. "Yes, Your Grace." She didn't want to call Uncle. After what he had done to Anne and George, she refused to acknowledge their blood relationship.

The Duke of Norfolk came closer to Mary and bent down his head to examine Arthur. As his eyes took in Arthur's appearance, a smile crossed his smug face. "Arthur, I am happy to finally meet you, my boy." He patted Arthur on his black hair. Then his eyes focused on Mary. "I am delighted to see you, too, my dear niece. I am seeking to reunite with you and your children. You are the part of the Howard family." His eyes shifted back to Arthur who stared curiously at the unknown man in front of him.

Mary and William exchanged worried looks. They knew why the Duke of Norfolk was looking at Arthur with such curiosity. If he wished to reunite with Mary and Arthur, it was undoubtedly not because of any warm family feelings.

A wry grin curved Mary's lips. "You didn't want to reunite with me in the past years," she scoffed. "What happened, Your Grace? Why are your feelings of kinship reviving only now?" She was ready to laugh in his face, but forced herself to stay calm.

"I haven't seen you for ages, my dear Mary. Please address to me as Uncle, not Your Grace," Norfolk said. A glimmer of a smile warmed his face before it disappeared. "I wanted to attend the first birthday of my great nephew Arthur."

"Thank you for coming here, Your Grace," Mary replied officially.

Norfolk ignored her formal addressing to him. If Mary didn't want to reconcile, it was worse for her. He arrived there not because of her, but because of Arthur. He was happy to see that Anne's son had such a striking resemblance to the King. Now when the King's son Richard was so sick, this boy would help him to have more power at the court. "Mary, I think that your household isn't good enough for Arthur. I wanted to help you and to take you and the boy from here to London. Of course, your husband and your children will accompany you," he suggested.

William Stafford, who was keeping silent, decided to speak now. His gaze met Norfolk's cold gaze. "Your Grace, we are grateful for your care, but we cannot accept your proposal. We won't go to London with you." There was a ring of finality in his voice.

The Duke of Norfolk forced a smile and looked at Mary. "Mary, are you sure that you don't want to have my protection? Don't you need my help?"

"Your Grace, I am very grateful that you want to help Arthur as I know that you don't care for me." She kissed Arthur on his forehead. "When everybody turned their heads away from this innocent child, William and I took him in our household. We love this boy as if he was our own son." Arthur started fussing, reacting to the rising tension in the room. Mary cradled the child to appease him. After a short pause, she continued. "I know very well about the troubles with King Henry's newborn son. Much gossip is floating in England about the child's defects. People call it the punishment for my sister's murder." She raised her voice. "And I know, Your Grace, why you need Arthur right now." She raised her chin. "I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to use my dear Anne's son like a pawn in your dirty games."

Norfolk laughed with an unpleasant laugh. "Mary, you are robbing this child of the excellent future."

Mary looked away. "If the King orders me to arrive at the court, I will obey."

In fifteen minutes, the Duke of Norfolk was gone. He wasn't happy with the results of his trip, but he could do nothing else at that moment. He couldn't force Mary to come to London with him. He would have to find another way to bring Mary and Arthur at the court. Norfolk had to show Arthur to the King because the child's royal parent would undoubtedly acknowledge that the boy was fathered by him. The Duke distinguished the resemblance between the boy and the King of England and wanted to use it for his own advantage. Whatever Norfolk did in his life was for self-preservation and advancement, to the exclusion of everything else.

After Norfolk left, Thomas Boleyn and his wife Elizabeth returned to the hall of the small house. Mary told them in details about the conversation with Norfolk and what he wanted from them. Thomas approved that Mary had rejected Norfolk's invitation. The old Boleyn knew better than anybody else what Norfolk wanted. Thomas also knew what Mary and William didn't know, and he didn't want to spoil King François and Anne's well-thought plan of clearing Anne's name. It wasn't an hour when the King could see his son Arthur.

"I was so anxious during our conversation with the Howard devil," Mary avouched.

Lady Elizabeth, Mary's mother, smiled at her eldest daughter. Now she was holding Arthur. "I know, Mary. Thomas Howard is my brother, but I don't want to see him. I cannot forgive him for the abandonment of Anne and George when they needed him the most in their lives."

Thomas Boleyn approached Mary and took her hands in his. "Mary, I know that you haven't forgiven me. Maybe we will never be close again." Mary wanted to say something, but he waved for silence. "I won't apologize as it is no use." He wasn't the man who showed his guilt and who apologized even if he felt so. "I just want to say that I am proud of how you treated Norfolk."

Mary was bewildered. "Thank you," she muttered.

"But we will need my brother soon," Lady Elizabeth admitted.

"Indeed," Thomas agreed. "Norfolk would be happy to move Cromwell out of the King's grace."

"I wonder how long it will take before King Henry has his eyes wide open at Cromwell's evil deeds," Lady Elizabeth spoke. Her gaze was always on Arthur as she was so happy to meet her new grandchild. Anne was her favorite daughter and this small boy meant a great deal for her. She also was happy to finally meet Mary's children.

The Earl of Wiltshire sighed. "The Howards are Catholics, and the Duke of Norfolk would be happy to seriously challenge the religious reforms. Later we will ally with him."

Mary and William stared at them in confusion. They didn't understand what was going on. They knew about the current hysteria around Master Cromwell and were always laughing as they were reading the pamphlets. However, they didn't know all the truth about the situation.

"I won't let anybody to harm Arthur," Thomas Boleyn said. "There will be time when the King will see him, and it must happen soon."

Mary was confused. "Father…"

William was also bewildered. "Sir Thomas…"

Thomas Boleyn waved for silence. "I will explain everything to you later. Now it will be better for all of you to move to Hever Castle. It is for Arthur's sake. Now, when the King's son is sick, there are many people who can try to harm Arthur. We must protect him," he said firmly.

* * *

_**November 23, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy**_

The war in Italy was nothing new for the French. The Italian Wars started in the end of the 15th century in the period of the broken Italy when a number of small republics: Dalmatia, Florence, Genoa, Istria, Lucca, Milan, Modena, Naples, Savoy, the Roman Papacy, Sardinia, Sicily, Siena, and Venice. Starting from the end of the 15th century, the Holy Roman Empire began to lose its control over the Italian Peninsula. The fraught relationships between the Habsburgs and the Valois, expansionist foreign policies of France, Florence, Spain, and Venice and enfeeblement of the Holy Roman Empire in its control over Europe contributed significantly to the beginning of the Italian Wars. The independent Italian Republics were left with little power of their own, being politically unstable and exhibiting inadequate resources, which were necessary to maintain independence.

_Ferdinand Trastámara_ or _Ferdinand II of Aragon_ used the period of political instability in Italy to pursue his claim to the Republic of Naples, which was a Castilian possession of his wife _Isabella of Castile_, as well as to his claim to the Republic of Sicily by making strategic maneuvers that enabled him a significant deal of influence over the Italian Peninsula. Being afraid of the rising power of the Spaniards in Italy, _Ludovico Sforza, the Duke of Milan_, invited _King Charles VIII of France_ to pursue his claim to the Republic of Naples, a claim that could be traced back as far as the 13th century. At the same time, _Ferdinand II of Aragon_ refused to hand over control of Naples in the favor of France on the account of a long-standing claim of the Valois family to the land. Ferdinand turned to military force, thus starting _the Franco-Italian Wars_, which resulted in _King_ _Charles VIII's_ defeat. As at that time the Holy Roman Empire during was governed by _Emperor Maximilian I von Habsburg_, the conflict fueled the old Habsburg-Valois rivalry.

In the next years, von the Valois were frightened that the growing Habsburg Empire would pose a threat to France and vice versa, so that each party tried to stop the other from gaining too much power and too quickly. Both the Valois and the Habsburgs were struggling for the expansion of their own power and the territories of their countries. When _Emperor_ _Charles V_ gained control of the throne of Spain after _Ferdinand I of Aragon's_ death in 1516, he managed to make the Italian Republics give their freedoms and provide dominance under the Holy Roman Empire.

The situation became even more complicated after _the Battle of Pavia_, in which the French were ultimately dismayed. _King François I of France_ had to relinquish his claims to all of the Italian republics and gave up his Burgundian inheritance. The result was a significant blow to the French Empire and the moral of the French people. Now, King François had several strategic objectives in Italy. He wanted to return to France what was lost after the disastrous _the Battle of Pavia, _mainly the Burgundian inheritance of France and the control in the Republics of Milan and the Duchy of Savoy. Turin and Savoy had already been captured by the French in 1536, and currently the main task of the French army would be to expel the Spaniards from Milan and the small part of Savoy still occupied by the Imperial troops. King François even admitted that he could have forgotten about his dream to recapture Milan if only the Emperor had lost his control over the Duchy of Milan. It was the great obligation for King François to return what he had lost for the French people. Moreover, he also wanted to take his revenge on the Emperor who had humiliated the King of France after François' captivity at Pavia.

More than two months passed since King François arrived in Piedmont. During the past months, the King of France spent with the French military leaders and the courtiers. They were actively discussing the current location of the French and Imperial troops, the state of the French army, and the military operations plan. Many military commanders had different opinions on the ongoing war with the Emperor, and they were actively debating the matter.

"Your Majesty, I think that we should send our special Envoy to the Emperor. It would be better if we sign a treaty peace with them," Anne de Montmorency offered.

Ignoring Montmorency's statement, the King waved to Cardinal de Tournon to speak.

Cardinal François de Tournon smiled. "We are the French. We cannot allow the Spaniards to humiliate and disgrace our nation. We must restore what France lost before _the Battle of Pavia_," Tournon said proudly. "We have a large army now – more twenty thousand people. More than half of them are well-trained. France has greatly increased its military power compared with what we had ten years ago."

King François sighed as he remembered his shameful captivity and his imprisonment in Madrid. "I cannot support the idea of peace with the Emperor. Not after the King of France and the whole country had been humiliated by the Emperor." He cleared his throat. "In addition, the Emperor is responsible for several assassination attempts on my life, including the last one in Venice."

"Undoubtedly, we cannot leave the assassination attempts unpunished," Montmorency said.

François gave an ambiguous smile to Montmorency. "It is not only about the assassination attempts. It is about the honor of France. I cannot sign the peace treaty now."

Anne de Montmorency was the advocate of the peaceful treaty with the Emperor. After the dismay in the previous Italian war, Montmorency was afraid that France might be again humiliated and that the King could be captured again. He also didn't remember about the financial involvement of the English King in the matter. And what if King Henry will make an alliance with the Emperor now? What will it mean for France? These were Montmorency's thoughts.

"How many people has the Emperor gathered at this point?" the King asked in nonchalant manner.

"The Emperor has around fifteen thousand people in his troops now. Only one third of them are not properly trained," Cardinal de Tournon clarified.

François chuckled. "A simple mathematical calculation shows that our forces are almost equal."

"We are continuing to train our forces now," Claude d'Annebault interjected. "In several months our army will be more trained than that of the Emperor. The Emperor needs to make more alliances in order to ensure that he will win the war."

Anne de Montmorency curved his lips in a semblance of a smile. "The Holy Roman Emperor can make an alliance with England to dampen the military and political power of France."

The King laughed jauntily. "The Emperor won't be able to establish an Anglo-Imperial alliance because King Henryhas too many serious internal problems now. Well, you have heard about the current demonstrations of the common people against the policy of Thomas Cromwell."

"It is possible that there will be a rebellion against Master Cromwell and King Henry," Tournon concluded. He didn't show that he knew why Cromwell had been disgraced.

François nodded. "It is possible, Your Eminence."

Claude d'Annebault laughed sarcastically. "King Henry once supported Spain in an attempt to conciliate the Emperor to help him obtain the divorce from Queen Catherine. However, the Emperor deceived the English King and continued the resistance to the divorce. I don't think that after such outrageous betrayal by the Emperor King Henry will think about an Imperial alliance, especially given his current problems with Thomas Cromwell and the ongoing demonstrations."

"Precisely accurate," the King said with appreciation.

Montmorency rubbed his beard. "Your Majesty, the French poets are disgracing Cromwell. It looks a little suspicious that they are doing it right now." He himself considered it to be strange.

François laughed at Montmorency and leaned forward. "Monty, you know that I am the godfather of the Renaissance in France. If my artists adhere to some themes that excite their imagination and inspire them for rewarding artistic work, I will never discourage them to change the direction. I am a Renaissance man, and I am supporting, not disinclining, our artists."

Cardinal de Tournon smiled at the King. He adored François for his intelligence and astuteness. François was a great King, and Tournon wished him a long and happy life.

Montmorency was astonished, nearly jumping to his feet. "Your Majesty, the masterpieces of these poets may be potentially dangerous for France."

A smile came faintly into the corners of François' mouth. "Monty, the poets are spreading the knowledge. Freedom of expressing an opinion is an essential part of the Renaissance era. Our era shines brilliantly and must be freely passed along cultural heritage that has been essential to civilization." François averted his gaze from Montmorency. He was going to jump to the war topic. "I suppose that now we are ready for the war with the Emperor. We have an alliance with the Republic of Venice, the Papal States, and with the Ottoman Empire. The Duchy of Savoy will also support us. England is unlikely to establish an alliance with the Emperor. Our army is strong, well-trained, and multitudinous. We are perfectly capable of winning the war," he said proudly.

"I agree with Your Majesty. Given that it is a matter of time when the Emperor invades _Provence_ or Piedmont, we must be always alert," Annebault summed up.

Montmorency blinked. "But we cannot be in a rush."

"Certainly," the King replied.

Tournon smiled. "The battle will happen after the New Year. We have plenty of time."

Annebault laughed. "A lot of time," he retorted. "To inspire our people, it would be great if they see their Queen who saved our King from the evil hand of the Emperor's assassin."

King François shook his head in disagreement. His heart was hammering harder and harder as he remembered that he would become a father again soon. "I wouldn't consider this variant because I value my Queen's life very much, above any possible gains. I cannot allow somebody to harm her and my child she is carrying now. So far everything will be kept in secret."

Three pair of astonished eyes focused on the King of France.

Tournon smiled benevolently. "Congratulations, Your Majesty."

Annebault also smiled. "It is God's blessing, Your Majesty."

"My King, it is wonderful news," Montmorency said. He was intrigued.

"Thank you," the King replied. Then his mind drifted back to the war. "The Emperor found the control of his wide Empire rather difficult. With the large Spanish debt to clear and the Lutheran Reformation right in the heart of his Empire, he has many internal problems to deal with. We must use it to our advantage."

Everybody nodded. There was nothing they could object on the matter.

Cardinal de Tournon coughed shortly. "We all remember that the Emperor blocked the road near Pavia to make our soldiers starve. It lessened our strength. It was dishonest from his side. It was a matter of cold politics and intrigues. Now we can follow the analogical strategy. For example, we will leave over-ripe fruits on the trees in _Provence_ and, possibly, in Piedmont to give the Imperial troops dysentery and other illnesses." He paused, his voice deepening. "Curable illnesses," he said with an emphasis that he wasn't going to kill the people not on the battlefield. They needed only to lessen the army of the Emperor. "We will use the Emperor's own methods," the verdict followed.

Montmorency flinched. "I don't like it, but if Your Majesty approves, I will say nothing against it."

King François smiled favorably. "I approve," he said with authority. He was stunned when Anne proposed that idea. A resourceful, quick-witted woman, she had an incredible mind that was capable of inventing and weaving sophisticated intrigues. "We will discuss the matter later."

* * *

_**November 24, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England**_

Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, and Thomas Seymour, Baron Sudeley, who were the special Envoys of the English King to France and to Italy, returned to England from Europe in the end of November. They both failed their diplomatic missions and feared the King's wrath.

Charles Brandon was irritated with the result of his journey to Italy. He spent around two and a half months in Italy, including one and a half month in Piedmont and one month in the Republic of Venice. He attempted many times to secure the audience with King François at his residence at _the_ _Castello di Rivoli_ near Turin, but everything was in vain. He was rejected on the ground that there had been several assassination attempts on King François' life. He was always told that for the preservation purposes of the French King's life only the limited number of people was allowed to meet the King of France. Charles insisted that it was an urgent meeting, but nevertheless he was refused. Finally, Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France, agreed to meet with the Duke of Suffolk. Montmorency and Suffolk had an immensely formal, boring conversation about the politics and the ongoing Italian war. Montmorency thanked the Envoy of England and took the gifts for the Queen and the King of France, which were prepared by Charles with such great care. Montmorency also said that the name of the new Queen of France must be kept secret to protect her life. It caught the Duke of Suffolk off-guard.

Afterwards Charles went to Venice and spent a month there, trying to investigate who had saved the King of France in the Cathedral. He failed not only to learn the name of the noblewoman who saved the King of France, but also to find the details of the story. Everywhere he went was the dead end as François and his people had covered all the tracks of the incident in the Cathedral. Disappointed and infuriated, Charles finally left the city of Venice for England.

Thomas Seymour and Charles Brandon's paths intersected in _Provence_, in the South of France, when Thomas was about to cross the border between Piedmont and France. At that time Charles was going back to England from Italy. He persuaded Thomas to return to England, stating that he wouldn't be admitted to the King of France in Turin. At first, Thomas Seymour couldn't have believed Charles and agreed to come back to England only after Charles had told him the whole story about his unsuccessful trip to Turin and in Venice.

Thomas Seymour spent several stressful weeks in Paris. He had to wait for more than a month to have a private meeting with the Regent of France – King François' elder sister Queen Marguerite de Navarre. Obliged to wait for such a long time, Thomas was angry, making numerous complains to Marguerite's secretary. When he asked where the Queen of Navarre was, he was informed that she was out of Paris for several weeks. Then the secretary told Thomas that the Queen of Navarre was overloaded with numerous state deals.

Thomas Seymour didn't know about that, but Queen Marguerite of Navarre refused to accept the Envoy of England because she was waiting for further instructions from King François. She knew the reason why Thomas Seymour had been so insistent to meet her. As she had to be very cautious, she decided to wait until she would receive her brother's instructions from Italy. François recommended her to meet the English Envoy and to be calm, bald, and official with him, referring that she couldn't have ordered to arrest the poets just because they had written poems slandering somebody's name, not the King of England himself. François also recommended Marguerite to say that the poets were the subjects of France, not England, and that King Henry had no right to demand from France to arrest them even if they had written something that had displeased Henry. François recommended Marguerite to say that she couldn't have decided to give an order to arrest the poet who was beloved by King François while he himself was out of the country.

Eventually, Thomas Seymour was officially accepted by Queen Marguerite of Navarre at _Palais de Louvre_ in Paris. Like in Charles Brandon's case, it was a short formal meeting with greetings and polite, formal chat. When Thomas expressed his concern that the famous French poets had aspersed Thomas Cromwell without any reason, Marguerite pretended that she was listening to him with great attention. He even began to hope that he would be successful on his diplomatic mission. Thomas went further and demanded the arrest of the poet Mellin de Thomas wasn't as prudent and calculating as his brother Edward Seymour was, he didn't realize that Marguerite was playing hard with him. As he demanded to arrest the poet, the Queen of Navarre fluttered her long black eyelashes up and down and replied with unhidden regret in her melodic voice that it had been an unreasonable request from the English King to demand, not even ask, to arrest the poets who had done nothing wrong, except writing pamphlets that had displeased the English King. Marguerite said that Mellin de Saint-Gelais had left Paris for several weeks to regain his health in the South of France, hinting that she hadn't seen him for quite some time and that she hadn't been sure that it had been Mellin who had composed the pamphlets.

Thomas Seymour tried to press Marguerite, but she laughed at him and told him that the demand to arrest any poets in the era of the Renaissance and enlightenment had sounded ridiculous. When Thomas made his last attempt, Marguerite reprimanded him for his stubbornness and insistence. She insulted Thomas and stated that he hadn't probably received good lessons of gallant manners. She laughed and said that she had never expected to see the English King's brother-in-law to treat foreign monarchs in such an impolite manner. She claimed that she hadn't been authorized by her royal brother to arrest his favorite poet when he was out of France, especially given that she hadn't been sure that the poet had been guilty, which even wasn't the guilt in her comprehension. Defeated and infuriated, Thomas decided to meet with King François and departed to Piedmont. However, he had to finish his trip in _Provence_ where he met Charles who told him about the results of his unsuccessful and annoying trip.

When they came back to England and to London, they expected to hear the ringing bells in the honor of the birth of the Prince of Wales. However, they were met by the silent, gloomy English court. Soon they learned that the great trouble had occurred that Prince Richard had been born with defects. Charles Brandon and Thomas Seymour were truly shocked with the news.

King Henry stared at Charles Brandon. "It seems, Charles, that you failed your King." He raised his voice. "What did you learn throughout the past two months?"

Charles didn't dare to meet the King's angry gaze. "Your Majesty, I visited Turin and had a formal audience with Baron Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France. I wasn't permitted to meet King François because the French King had restricted the number of people who could have met him in private. They are afraid that a new assassination attempt would happen," he reported.

Henry furrowed his brows. "What else, Charles?"

"I gave Anne de Montmorency the gifts from Your Majesty." Charles lowered his gaze.

"Charles, did you go to Venice?" Henry questioned, a scowl marring his features.

Charles nodded numbly. "Yes, I did."

Henry's face was grimaced in an evil sneer. "I supposed that you, Charles, didn't manage to find out the name of the Queen of France." It sounded like ad assertion rather than like a question.

Charles raised his eyes to face the King. "I didn't learn the Queen's name because everything is kept confidential to protect the lives of the King and the Queen of France," he explained.

"Maybe you should spend more time at your estates, Charles," King Henry said bluntly, his gaze still on Charles' face. "You are banished from the court staring from today."

Charles bowed. "As Your Majesty wishes."

Henry's aquamarine eyes flew to Thomas Seymour. "Lord Sudeley, how was your visit to Paris? Did you see Queen Marguerite of Navarre, the Regent of France in the absence of our _brother_ François?" His tone was cold and condemning.

Thomas Seymour looked into the King's eyes. He was frightened to speak. "Your Majesty, I had an official audience with Queen Marguerite. I told her about England's claims against the work of the poet Mellin de Saint-Gelais who is patronized by the French monarchs."

Henry swallowed hard. "What did she answer?"

"Queen Marguerite answered that she hadn't been sure that Mellin de Saint-Gelais had written the pamphlets. She also said that it is not a criminal thing for the Renaissance poets to write poems in the era of enlightenment if these poems are not slandering the monarchs and sovereigns," Thomas Seymour replied. "She also said that she couldn't have signed the arrest warrant of the best French poet in the absence of her beloved brother."

King Henry laughed nervously, with an ugly laugh, his face screwed up. As his laugh faded away, his lips thinned and he sighed before he spoke himself out. "It means that our _brother_ François most likely knows why these damned poets had issued these dirty pamphlets that incriminated and disgraced one of the most loyal servants – Master Cromwell. I don't know why François is doing this, but it seems that he is doing it intentionally." He stopped talking and sucked in is breath. His hand showed on Thomas. "You, Thomas, were fooled by this whorish Queen Marguerite. She wasn't busy all the time you waited for an audience with her in Paris. She was simply waiting for instructions from François."

Thomas Seymour felt his stomach turning in knots of dread. "Your Majesty, I did what I could."

"What are the French courtiers thinking about the recent events in England? What have you heard, Lord Sudeley?" Henry continued his interrogation.

"The French courtiers are focused on the preparations for the new stage in the Franco-Imperial war. They also are buzzing about King François' wedding, making wagers who the new Queen of France is. Some courtiers think that she is from the French nobles. Others think that is from the German Protestant states. Some courtiers are sure that she is Italian," Thomas Seymour reported.

Henry stared at Thomas. "Lord Sudeley, what do the French think about Anne Boleyn's matter?"

It was the most dreadful question for Thomas Seymour. He decided not to tell the King that he had been a laughingstock of the whole Europe that he had executed the woman on the trumped-up charges and in addition annulled their marriage. He didn't wish to feel the King's wrath at himself. "Your Majesty, I don't know," a reply followed.

"But the French must think something about the falsehood in the pamphlets," Henry insisted.

"They are too busy with the stories about the Queen of France and the war with the Emperor," Thomas Seymour repeated what he had already told the King.

Henry laughed. "I don't like all these secrets around François' marriage! I hate all this mess around nothing!" He bellowed, sucking in a deep breath. "I thought that you, my loyal servants, would bring to me much interesting news, but you failed your missions." His voice took a higher octave, his eyes piercing Charles and Thomas in turns. "You both are banished from the court. Go away and don't come back until I pardon you and summon you back to the court."

Charles Brandon and Thomas Seymour shared alarmed glances. They bowed to the English King.

While Thomas Seymour had already left, Charles Brandon paused at the doorway.

"Your Majesty, if you ever need me, it will be my pleasure and great honor to serve you," Suffolk said with a courtly nod, nearly choking on the small lie. He wasn't pleased with the whole situation because he did everything to perform his duty to the King. It wasn't his fault that King François wasn't ready or didn't wish to accept him in Piedmont. Although Henry was his best and closest friend, at times the deals of the royal court irritated the Duke of Suffolk up to his fingernails. It was not difficult to see how swiftly and randomly those around Henry paid the price when he was under pressure. Charles often mused whether he would ever pay for something if he entirely fell out of Henry's favor.

The King didn't answer to him. Therefore, Suffolk turned around and left.

The Duke of Suffolk returned to his large well-furnished chamber he occupied together with his wife _Catherine Willoughby, the Duchess of Suffolk_ and _12th Baroness Willoughby de Eresby _in her own right. She was Charles Brandon's fourth wife who was the legal guardian of the Duke's third wife Mary Tudor, King Henry's younger sister. Catherine was the daughter of María de Salinas, a Spanish noblewoman, a confident and a former lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine. Like Suffolk's wife Mary Tudor, Catherine Willoughby was loyal to Queen Catherine and loathed Anne Boleyn and the Boleyn faction. Charles told Catherine that they leaving for the Westhorpe Hall, a manor house in Westhorpe, Suffolk, which was the Duke of Suffolk's principal residence in England.

"Why are we leaving the court?" Catherine Willoughby asked. Looking at Charles, pale and sullen, she understood everything without any questions. Her husband failed in Italy and displeased the King. "King Henry banished us from the court," she asserted.

Charles Brandon settled in the armchair near the fireplace. He looked at her and laughed aloud. "Yes, Catherine. I was banished from the court and ordered to retire to my estates."

"The King is angry because you achieved nothing in Italy," Catherine said shrewdly.

"It is because of the Boleyn Whore," Charles snapped angrily. "She cannot leave Henry and all of us alone even after she was executed."

"There is terrible mess after the pamphlets and the critical book about Thomas Cromwell had been distributed," she said, approaching her husband and settling in the armchair near him.

"Yes," Suffolk confirmed, taking her hand in his.

"Charles, do you think that Cromwell will be arrested and tried?"

"Yes," he echoed his previous answer. "As soon as the King reads the critical book about Cromwell, he will probably sign Cromwell's arrest warrant."

Catherine looked into Charles' eyes. "The King likes Cromwell and will imprison him only if he truly believes that that the Whore was innocent."

"Maybe, maybe," Suffolk muttered, glancing away.

Catherine clasped her fingers around his wrist, attracting his attention. "Was she really innocent?" At last, she voiced a question she wanted to ask Charles a long time ago. She would never have dared to ask that question somebody else and aloud, knowing that they could have discussed it only in the privacy of their quarters where nobody could have overheard them.

Charles Brandon's eyes locked with his wife's eyes. He was silent for a minute, holding her gaze, his face tensed. He hesitated before responding. "I don't know," he finally said.

"The only positive moment is that Cromwell is disgraced," Catherine said quietly. "Cromwell may be even executed if the King believes that the Whore was innocent."

"You know how I hate Cromwell, and I will be happy to see him his head chopped off. Cromwell likes to spill other people's blood so much that he truly deserves death. However, if the King believes that Anne Boleyn was innocent, then the restoration of Princess Mary to the line of succession will be highly unlikely."

Her response was a scornful look. "Anne Boleyn hated Princess Mary and persecuted her. Whether the Whore was innocent or not, she deserved what she got after everything she had done to Queen Catherine and to Princess Mary," she said in a decisive tone.

Charles wasn't astonished with her words. His wife's opinion about Anne Boleyn had always been a low one, and she had never cared for Anne's children. "Whatever about that dead woman, she still has a great influence on King Henry and the lives of people who destroyed her."

"Do you think that the King may legitimize his daughter Elizabeth?" she questioned.

"As well as his son with Anne Boleyn," he remarked reluctantly.

"But we are not sure that the boy born at the Tower is the King's son," she objected.

"Who knows who the real father of Anne's child is," Charles Brandon replied, not wishing to talk to her about Anne Boleyn's matter. She didn't know that he had told Henry about Anne's indecent behavior with men in her private chambers, and he wasn't intending to enlighten her.

"Charles, what do you mean?" Her voice was concerned. "Did you participate in the Whore's downfall? What don't I know about the matter?"

"Catherine, I don't want to talk about it," Charles said grimly, his voice nearly grave. He shuddered at the thought what would happen to him if the King learned that Anne Boleyn had been innocent. Instead, he forced a smile. "I don't know how long I will be in exile in countryside. Anyway, I am happy that we will spend more time with the children," he said neutrally.

"Of course, Charles." Catherine cast a suspicious look at him, but said nothing else.

* * *

_**Thanks to all readers who subscribed and favourited this story!**_

_**I want to thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help.**_

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter. The headline of the chapter reflects its main theme – God's will and retribution. What is your favorite part in the chapter?_

_Do you have any new thoughts about François and Anne?_

_I don't know what you think about the twist with Jane's child. Honestly, my decision to introduce this twist is the result of my desire to be original in my approach to Jane's fate. There are many stories when Jane has a girl that is useless for Henry and a boy who is sickly and doesn't live to adulthood. My twist is quite original. Be aware that Jane's failure doesn't mean that in several months she will be executed. Maybe Henry will give her second chance or will divorce her. What will happen, you will learn later (I have already decided it). __The birth of the child happens on a special date – one day before Jane's actual death in history. A symbolical meaning is that she is in trouble, but not dead. _

_The child's name was chosen to be Richard because it is an unfortunate name for English Kings. Richard III had visible spinal deformity, possibly murdered the Princes in the Tower, declared his father's marriage to his mother Elizabeth Woodville invalid, making their children illegitimate and ineligible for the throne, and later died at the Battle of Bosworth Field, fighting with Henry Tudor, future King Henry VII. Richard II, the son of the legendary Black Prince and the grandchild of Edward III, may have suffered from a personality disorder, was finally deposed and died in captivity the next year after his deposition (he was probably murdered). Richard I the Lionheart rebelled in Poitou against his father King Henry II of England, was rumored to be homosexual, also was in captivity, and died young. All these Richards died without living legitimate male heirs._

_Do you like Cromwell's misery? I think if such a critical book had indeed been issued, Cromwell's downfall would have been guaranteed. In my interpretation, the critical book shows all the flaws in Cromwell's reforms, making a special emphasis on his disagreement with Anne Boleyn._

_As for François and Anne's children, don't think that if Anne is pregnant now, she will be pregnant every year from thereafter. It won't be so because I think that it is unlikely and even unrealistic. In addition, I don't want to make Anne a woman who is always heavy with child, a woman used only for breeding. She may have two, maximum three, pregnancies, but not more. It is my point of view._

___I hope you liked the interaction between Thomas Seymour, Charles Brandon, and King Henry. As many of you predicted, they failed their diplomatic missions and were punished by Henry._

_Next chapter includes King François/Anne scenes in Turin, King François/Anne de Pisseleu scenes, and several other scenes._

_**Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism. Make a review even if you hate this story. I know that summer heat makes you lazy, but please find a minute for a feedback. Thank you in advance.**_

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. The beta reader and I could have missed something because the chapter is long._

_Thank you for reading this chapter._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Love triangle**

**_November 25, 1537, Palazzo Montreuil, Venice, the Republic of Venice_**

Queen Anne stared at Jacques de la Brosse who had just entered the study room. "Monsieur de la Brosse, good morning," she greeted him.

Jacques de la Brosse bowed. "Good morning, Your Majesty," he returned.

"Did you manage to transfer the money as I asked?"

"Your Majesty, Lady Mary Stafford will soon receive the money."

Anne let a gentle smile pass across her full lips. "Great," she said. She was happy that now her sister and her son Arthur would live on money she sent to them, even if it was François' money. When she asked François whether it was possible to send money to Mary, he agreed without any hesitation and sent his people to Staffordshire where Mary and her husband settled down after their marriage and Mary's banishment from the court. Anne knew that Henry Percy helped Mary financially for the sake of the child. Thomas Boleyn also once sent money to cover the expenses on Arthur's life. Now it was Anne's turn to help her sister and her son. "Will everything be kept confidential?" she inquired.

Brosse theatrically put a hand to his heart. "I take my life in my hands for saying this," he vowed.

Anne laughed. "You shouldn't lose your life because we need you," she teased.

"Your Majesty, King François' people can be trusted. They will pass the money to your sister and her husband. Nobody else will now about it. The source of money will be unknown," he assured.

"Very well," Anne answered with a bewitching smile. "Is everything ready for our trip to Turin?"

"Yes, it is," Brosse reported. "I organized everything. We can leave in several days."

"Thank you, Monsieur de la Brosse," she replied, a smile lingering on her face.

"Your Majesty, I am always at your disposal," Brosse said with a smile. Then his smile suddenly faded away. "I must warn you that you may meet unwanted people in Turin."

Anne arched a brow because she didn't understand him. "Whom do you mean, Monsieur?"

Brosse sighed. He liked Queen Anne and didn't want to hurt her. Even if she didn't love King François and their marriage was a matter of politics, he hadn't doubted that she would be displeased to know that the King's _maîtresse en titre _was still in Piedmont. "Madame Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, is still in Turin."

Queen Anne inwardly flinched, but her facial expression and eyes didn't betray her. A familiar mask of polite indifference and nonchalance protected her. "Well, I don't think that it is an important circumstance," she retorted in a chilly tone. "Thank you for telling me about it."

A smile hovered over her lips, her blue eyes stony. Despite her visible indifference, Anne felt slightly uncomfortable. She silently questioned whether François had continuing sleeping with his mistress. But she didn't love him and it didn't matter, she said to herself. She would never throw her tantrums of jealousy on any other man again, whether he was either François or Henry, a King or a commoner. She was above that, and her behavior would be regal, she swore.

Brosse only shook his head. He was glad that she seemed to be calm. "Your Majesty, I am always at your disposal," he repeated with a bow.

* * *

**_November 26, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy_**

King François and Queen Anne maintained regular correspondence, and he was always waiting for her letters. He didn't forget that Anne had miscarried twice in England, and he was very worried for her health and the health of their child. Their letters to each other were filled with both personal and political things. Anne always wrote that she was alright and felt well, asking François not to worry for her and their child. Even on paper they discussed poetry and art in just a few paragraphs, and François adored Anne's devotion to the Italian and the French Renaissance. They also discussed political things, mainly the situation in Italy and the ongoing war with the Emperor. Yet, there was always the aura of tension and bitterness in their letters because they couldn't have avoided discussing their avenge plan and the events in England. François always informed Anne what his spies reported to him, and they exchanged suggestions what should be done next.

In the early morning hours, the royal page delivered Queen Anne's letter from Venice, and since then King François' spirit plummeted. François was particularly moody and temperate on that day, and all his generals and all French courtiers who were with the King in Piedmont noticed that. François was taciturn and absent-minded during the meeting with Cardinal François de Tournon, Anne de Montmorency, and Claude d'Annebault. Feeling that he couldn't have focused on the war on that day, he interrupted the meeting and dismissed everybody by a wave of hand, telling that he would join them later on the grand banquet.

François wasn't feeling comfortable because of his wife – Anne Boleyn. Anne's last letter was only about King Henry, the situation in England, and their revenge on him. Anne asked him how Henry had reacted to the pamphlets and the critical book. Anne also wrote a large paragraph about Jane Seymour and the deaf and dumb son Prince Richard. She didn't ask how François was doing and simply wrote that she had hoped that he had been doing well. The King of France counted that Henry's name was mentioned in the letter nine times. He knew that his wife Anne wanted to know how King Henry and Queen Jane Seymour had lived and how Henry had been treating Jane in the aftermath of her failure to give him a healthy son. François was furious because he was jealous of Anne to Henry. It seemed that despite the distance between Anne and Henry the man had always been on her mind and many of her actions had been explained by her uncertain feelings for Henry. François knew that Anne hadn't loved him when he married her, and at first he wasn't so jealous. Yet, in the past weeks something had changed in him, and he was beside himself with jealousy. He knew that Anne was his wife, but he still was jealous. There was something less easily dismissed that passed between Henry and Anne. Before François married Anne and attached her to himself with her approval, Anne fiercely loved Henry, but that fire eventually burnt them both. The fire could still have existed between Henry and Anne even in distance, and it hurt François to think that Anne had still loved Henry.

In the evening, François joined his courtiers at the banquet. The major topic for the discussion was that John Calvin had promulgated Protestant doctrines in the Aosta Valley that was rather close to Turin. Anne de Montmorency wasn't happy with the matter and appealed to François to persecute the heretics in Piedmont. Cardinal de Tournon only answered that France had been following the policy of religious tolerance, and Montmorency scowled at the Cardinal. François didn't participate in those discussions, emptying many goblets of wine, cognac, and amaretto, being indifferent to the Catholics and the Protestants. Displaying their French eccentricity, Montmorency and Annebault involved themselves in the unusual game by competing who would drink more wine and remain sober. Montmorency won while Annebault was so drunk that courtiers had to carry him to his chambers. By the end of the banquet, everybody was drunk, including King François and Cardinal de Tournon who could also be an occasional victim of insobriety.

François didn't know how it happened, but he and his _maîtresse en titre _Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, ended up in the King's chambers. His chambers were adorned with extraordinary wallpaper, bright exotic birds frolicking amidst colorful flowers. The walnut furniture was gilded and ornamented with embellishments on historical and mythological topics. A lot of vases, devoid of flowers, were standing on _cassoni_, the so-called Italian _marriage chest_. Several matching gilded chairs were upholstered in white and red turquoise. The floor was of white and red marble. As soon as they entered the bedchamber, Anne dismissed all the servants, stating that she and the King wanted to be alone. Knowing who she was for the King, the servants obeyed, leaving François and his lover alone. François and Anne sat on the edge of the bed.

Anne de Pisseleu smiled. "The banquet was great, but I was dreaming to be alone with you, _mon amor_." She took the King's hand and kissed it, first on the knuckles, then, opening it, on the palm.

François gave up his hand to her, letting her play with his fingers. "It was a strange evening."

A giggle erupted through her throat. "François, you and others drank too much tonight. Besides, you drank wine, cognac, and amaretto, and it is a lethal mixture." She laughed. "Montmorency and Annebault were funny. Only Philippe de Chabot can outplay Montmorency in drinking."

"Philippe is in England."

"When will he return to France?" she inquired, thinking that she would probably need Chabot soon.

"After the New Year," François replied. He descended his body on the bed, and Anne put a pillow under his head. "I want to rest."

Hairpins hit her shoulders, the mass of blonde hair followed heavily to her shoulders, then down her back. She tossed her blonde curls. "If you want me to leave, it means that you have some immediate plans. That is why you are in such a hurry to have me out."

François shut his eyes and sighed. His thoughts drifted to Anne Boleyn and Henry Tudor. Wine and cognac in particular only strengthened his jealousy and anger at Anne and Henry.

"I have no other plans," he whispered.

She smiled at him and began to unfasten her emerald brocade gown on the back. Having much experience in undressing by herself when she met her lovers, she was skillful enough to remove her gown and even a corset without the help of her maid. "François, I want you," she whispered.

"I am married," François said, his voice turning into a faint whisper.

Duchess d'Étampes laughed. "It never limited your amorous escapades when you were married to Queen Claude. Your reputation of a libertine originated in your early youth," she remarked.

"It was a long time ago," he reminded, his eyes still shut.

"Your debauchery will never be forgotten," Anne stated with a laugh. "François, you are such a handsome and brilliant man who has always been beloved by women and who is well-known with your gallantry, courtesy, and charm. You have always been attracted to beautiful ladies, and they have been eminently attracted to you. Passion is in your blood because you are a Frenchman and all the more you are the King. You have always complimented women a great deal, being indulgent and libidinous."

"Many of these ladies loved me, but I broke their hearts. I was very young and didn't comprehend what I was doing," he finished, his tone halfhearted. He felt dizziness from consumed alcohol.

"My King, you cannot live in celibacy for a long time. You cannot wait until you see your wife next time." Although the last time she had intimacy with the French King was in June, it didn't mean that she hadn't been with any other men since then. There were many times when she had affairs with other men. One of her old lovers was Philippe de Chabot, one of the King's closest friends.

François felt that his head was slightly spinning. "I indeed drank too much."

Anne felt inspired as the King's intoxication eased her task to be intimate with him. "I want you so much, my dear François, my majestic King. I want you right now and here. I have been dreaming of being in your arms for ages," she purred in a velvety voice. She was irritated with the necessity to unlace her corset, but she continued undressing. She wanted to sleep with him now that he drunk because at any other time he didn't show any willingness to bed her.

François opened his eyes and looked at her. He was angry and jealous, while Anne de Pisseleu was very insistent, seductive, and passionate. "You have a lewd and incurable soul of a courtesan."

Anne de Pisseleu smiled with a luscious smile as she managed to be done with the buttons of her gown. "And now I want you, my François."

The King lifted himself from a horizontal position and pushed down her gown with his hands, trapping warmth emptying into his arms. Her bosom was opened almost completely. He didn't know why he did that, but he wanted her at that moment. "You are one of the best lovers I have ever had." His body stirred against her, a yearning roiled in him.

"I love you," Anne murmured and took his lips with hers.

At first, François didn't respond, but then he again remembered about his wife's obsession with revenge and her last letter. Anger was spiraling in his heart, only to be supplanted by an urgent need to express it at once, and he kissed Anne back with the slow and latent kiss. His tongue reached into her mouth, the movement strong and inciting imprudence. Then the kiss grew more temperate and deeper, and he felt how Anne was removing his doublet. Not parting their lips, she pulled his doublet from his shoulders and threw it on the floor, then concentrating her hands on the buttons of his taffeta shirt. François looked at his lover, but he saw not the blonde-haired woman with green eyes, but the raven-haired lady with deep blue eyes – Anne Boleyn.

"Anne… Anne…" François whispered his wife's name, remembering the nights he spent with Anne Boleyn in Venice.

Anne de Pisseleu smiled at him, thinking that he meant her. "My François," she murmured.

They abruptly stood up from the bed, and her gown dropped to her feet. Anne de Pisseleu was left only in her chemise, and he slid his hands under it to press his palms onto her bare skin. He pulled back for an instance and tore apart her chemise from the hem up to the waist. Then his hands gripped the cool material in the area of the neckline, lacerating the front of the chemise. She laughed and helped him get rid of his shirt. Her chemise gathered on the tops of his forearms as he slid his hands up the curve of her hips to all the way up her ribs and to her armpits. François kissed Anne again, his lips bruising hers. His kisses were desperate as he had an urgent need to take a woman as his possession. His hand encircled her back, his other hand moving into full-palmed possession of a breast. Flushes of warmth running through him, he wished to plunge into wildness and have primitive satisfaction. They sat back on the edge of the bed, and he drew her fully against him into the crook of his legs. His hands were caressing her body, his mouth on her mouth, their tongues entwined. Briefly brushing his fingers against his abdomen, he started undoing the buttons of his Italian pants. He freed his pants from his hips and then was swiftly and deeply inside her.

"Oh, François! Oh, my François! I love you!" Duchess d'Étampes groaned. "I love your wildness."

François said nothing, kissing her neck and shoulders. Anne murmured again that she loved him. They began to move, but with an awkward fall they fell from the bed on the parquet floor. He looked at her slender, bare body, glowing white in the dim light, and the desire for release became overpowering. He was on top of her, moving inside her again and again, and she arched harshly and severely into him with every new thrust. They were in the limbo of exhausted breathing and concupiscence. She clasped him with her legs and moaned. François expressed all his anger and hurt in his encounter with Anne, moving maniacally and violently, entranced by the force of what was happening to him. As she clawed all her nails into his back, he cried out in pain and cursed in French. His right hand encircled her throat, squeezing it lighter and harder, lighter and harder, while his left hand cupped her head and his lips captured hers. It was a natural copulating, not a tender exquisite dance of pure love. Anne moaned aloud, scratching his back with her long nails. Soon they began to convulse in their tight embrace, heat and pleasure shooting up their bodies like jolts of lightning, blood rushing down their veins, into their fingers and toes, up to the apex of their bodies.

As François and Anne tried to stand up from the floor, they stumbled into the nearby chair and fell again. As Anne was trailing kisses down his chest, François groaned and rolled her body over, invading into her, grabbing her legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Everything began from the beginning as desire swept through them. Later they somehow managed to get to bed and dispose of his pants and the tatters of her chemise that was again torn apart in an attempt to remove it more quickly. Absolutely naked, they threw the bedcovers on the floor and found their refuge on the bed. Then everything began to whirl around them. They sank into the world of physical lecherousness, into a spill of pleasant sensations that overfilled them, into dissipated and half immoral endearments that François would have thought a lot before making such intimate experiments with his wife Anne Boleyn. But his lover for that night was Anne de Pisseleu, not his wife, and he didn't need to be cautious with her, while his mistress, an experienced courtesan, knew what the King wished and liked in the bed.

François awoke to find himself in his bed with the female body. He and the woman were naked, only their legs being slightly covered with tapestried damask bedcovers. The dawn began to make her features familiar, and it was perhaps the familiarity of his lover's face that made him feel so unusually frightened. He stared at Anne de Pisseleu who was lying beside him, naked, one knee up, the other dropped. The realization crushed upon him that he had slept with his mistress, although he didn't want to do that. During that night he was thinking not about Anne de Pisseleu, but about Anne Boleyn. He drank too much yesterday, and she used the chance to spend the night together. He shouldn't have spent the night with her, and he cursed himself for that.

François shifted in the bed and drew the bedcovers over their bodies. Then he stretched his body across the bed and shivered in pain, his back hurting from deep scratches his mistress left on his skin during the night. His body was on fire from excessive perspiration. He swept his eyes over the room, looking at the chaotic mess of their clothes on the floor. He cursed himself again and again.

François reached for her shoulder. "Anne, wake up," he said flatly.

Anne slowly opened her eyes, disoriented and sleepy. "François," she murmured.

He gave a cold glare to her. "Please leave," he commanded.

She snuggled to him, but he disentangled from her embrace. "What is it with you, _mon amor_?"

"I was very drunk," François said with a clear note of displeasure. "You used it to stay with me."

"You wanted me as much as I wanted you," she protested.

"I was drunk," he reiterated.

Anne climbed out of the bed and gripped the King's black silk night robe. "Can I use your robe?"

François drew in a long, ragged breath. "Yes."

She cloaked herself into the robe. "Thank you."

"Please leave because soon I have a meeting with Monty." the King needed to have a bath and be dressed. He didn't hope that he would be able to eat anything in the state of hangover.

"If Your Majesty wishes, I will leave," she replied. "Have a good day."

"Thank you, Anne," the King snapped nonchalantly.

François called his servant who slept in the room adjacent to the King's bedchamber and asked the young boy to help Anne de Pisseleu remove herself from his presence. He looked how she gathered her clothes and turned to him, smiling with a playful smile. As soon as the door behind her closed, François felt the plummet of despair, knowing that he committed an error yesterday. His heart pounded for three, four, five, six long seconds. Anger at himself was the first emotion, changed by outrage. As the haze evaporated from his head, he wholeheartedly regretted spending the night with his mistress. He betrayed his marital vows, a feeling of frantic guilt slashing though him. But why was he bothered so much by that? It seemed to him that he had almost known the answer.

* * *

**_November 30, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy_**

King François was lying on the large walnut bed with gilded canopy in his bedchamber. François wasn't alone – the young, beautiful, blonde-haired woman snuggled closer to him, her head on his chest. That woman was his Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes. They were fully dressed, although it was quite late.

Anne de Pisseleu smiled. "_Mon amour_, François, you stopped paying attention to me since your return from Venice," she complained. She kissed the King's neck.

King François singed heavily. "You are exaggerating, Anne."

She knit the brows for a moment. "My François, we spent only one night together after you had returned from Venice." She felt how the muscles of his body tensed.

François shut his eyes. "I am very busy and cannot be distracted." He didn't want to remember about that night. It was unbelievable for him, but he felt guilty that he had been intimate with Duchess d'Étampes. Every time François remembered that Queen Anne, his wife, was carrying his child while he was sleeping with Anne de Pisseleu, a feeling of guilt turned more frantic.

"You were not busy all the time," she objected. "Are you healthy, _mon amour_?" Before he had married in Venice, François usually invited his mistress to his chambers almost every night. They used to be passionate and regular lovers.

François pulled away from her. "Anne, I told you that I was very busy."

"It is because of your new wife," she assumed.

The King tensed at her words. "It doesn't matter," he answered sharply.

Duchess d'Étampes felt that the King's body turned strained as soon as she mentioned his new wife. What was wrong with him? "Your Majesty, if I may ask you, how long did you know the woman whom you married?" Her tone changed from personal to official.

The King glanced vexedly at his mistress. "I knew my wife enough to marry her." He didn't want to talk to Anne about another Anne who was occupying all his thoughts in the past months.

With a sickening lurch in her heart, Anne de Pisseleu looked up at him with challenge. "What is going on? You no longer like to spend time with me." She trailed off, her green eyes sparkled. She had one guess why the King no longer looked at her in complete adoration and why he preferred to sleep alone in his bed. Even if they somehow ended on the bed, there was no physical intimacy among them. She decided that she would check her guess now. "Your Majesty, do you remember how many years we spend together in harmony? We were so happy."

François smiled. "These years are unforgettable," he drawled in a little distant tone. There was no usual pure, wild devotion in his voice as he talked about their past.

Sadness imparted into the green eyes of the King's mistress. She noticed that his reaction to her changed and evolved in just pleasant memories. How did it happen? She didn't know, but she felt that he no longer loved her. "Your Majesty, I greatly appreciate the time we are spending together. It is the best time in my life."

The King closed his eyes. "It was a great time when we shared our interests, fears, confusions, and passions."

Anne gave a sidelong glance to the King. She noticed that he was talking about their time in the past. She was in despair. Did he fall in love with his new wife? How could it happen? "Your Majesty, the Queen of France must be an incredible woman if you married her only because she heroically saved your life."

François opened his eyes and glanced at Anne, then looked away. "My wife is a unique woman."

Anne wanted to know what kind of feelings existed between the King and the Queen of France. She saw that the King was missing his wife, but she still didn't understand to what extent he had fallen for her. "Does your wife love you, my King?"

The King's body again tensed, he stiffened. He shot her a hard under-the-counter glance. Then his amber eyes softened. "It doesn't matter," he murmured. He knew that Anne Boleyn, his wife, didn't love him when he married her. Most likely, Anne Boleyn still loved her first husband – King Henry. And several months ago François didn't mind. Now the thought that Anne didn't love him was like a sharp knife in his heart.

"Your Majesty, I love you," Anne half whispered in poignant ardor.

King François smiled at her. He was gently stroking her blonde hair. "I know."

Her sentiment of love and passion wasn't happily reciprocated. Anne de Pisseleu saw it, but she wasn't going to lose the battle without the struggle. She didn't know who that woman was. But it didn't matter: she knew who she was, and she would never give the King to somebody else, even if François' wife was an incredible woman. "François, I will always love you." She wanted to kiss him, but he pulled away.

King François glanced away. "Anne, I don't want it now."

Duchess d'Étampes kissed his neck, but he moved farther away on the bed. "Why don't you want me?" she asked in indignation.

"I am very tired. I prefer to rest," the King said discontentedly. Then he rose to his feet and went to the window, staring outside. "Maybe you should come back to France," he accurately suggested.

"Your Majesty may need me here," she replied in a sweet voice. She leapt to her feet. She was going to check another thing that had become her headache since she had heard about it. "Your Majesty, I have heard that your wife is with child. Congratulations." Her eyes rested on François throughout the last phrase of her statement. She hoped that it were only rumors.

The King turned his face to her. "Thank you," a monosyllabic answer followed. He didn't make a single move to hold her in the room.

Anne de Pisseleu didn't know what to do – either to cry or to laugh. King François had just confirmed that his wife was with child, his child. She had never given him any bastard child, and it was her pain and, probably, her punishment by God for her carnal pleasures she had in abundance.

Anne made a deep curtsey to the King and went to the door. She paused near the door and looked at him. "Your Majesty, I wish you to have a good night."

"Goodnight, Anne," King François replied politely. He felt guilty that he no longer had the same passion as he felt for her for years. He didn't want to make her suffer. He tried to find the same passion and the same love in his heart and soul, but there was nothing, except for devotion to Anne as his friend. Was it his fault that he considered her to be more his friend than his lover at that moment? Why had his old feelings faded away?

* * *

**_December 1, 1537, the Palace of Whitehall, London, England_**

Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion, was spending a night with his lover _Mary Howard FitzRoy, the Duchess of Richmond and Somerset_, the widow of King Henry's son _Henry FitzRoy,_ _1st Duke of Richmond and Somerset_ who was the King's only acknowledged illegitimate son. Henry FitzRoy married Mary Howard in 1533, but the marriage was never consummated because the King of England hadn't wanted FitzRoy to have any children before he himself had a son in his new "true" marriage after an annulment of his marriage to _Catherine of Aragon_. The young boy was consumptive and died in July 1536, leaving his wife Mary a virgin widow.

Mary wasn't going to be used by her father, Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, as a pawn in his games of securing more power at the court. She had never approved of King Henry's desire to annul his first marriage and marry Anne Boleyn. Mary was a devout Catholic and was in horror when the King made himself the Supreme Head of the English Church, thinking that the King had committed an act of blasphemy. Like others, Mary signed the Oath of Supremacy for form's sake, in reality never believing that any King could be named the Head of the Church in any kingdom. Although she didn't look favorably at King Henry's second marriage to Anne Boleyn, she didn't hater Anne who was her cousin and whom she adored in many aspects. Unlike the Duke of Norfolk, Mary respected the blood bonds and would never have been able to condemn her own relatives to death as her father did to Anne Boleyn. She despised that the Duke of Norfolk had presided on Anne's trial as Lord High Steward, and after Anne Boleyn's execution her relations with her father worsened. She kept herself in emotional distance from Norfolk, although she obeyed to his orders and followed his instructions in public, cursing him in her mind.

The Duke of Norfolk petitioned to King Henry for Mary to be married to Thomas Seymour, Baron Sudeley. The King approved of the match, but Mary herself and her brother Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey, fiercely objected, and Norfolk's matrimony plans were ruined. Later the Earl of Surrey noticed that Mary could have become the King's mistress in order to have the privileged position at the court and to be the King's grand favorite, like Madame d'Étampes, King François' _maîtresse en titre_, had at the French court. For Mary it was a detestable thing to do, and she had a quarrel with her brother, stating that she would cut her own throat rather than to consent to such villainy. As a result, her relations with her father and her brother fell apart.

Her widowhood and her objection to become the King's mistress didn't mean that Mary was going to keep her innocence if she fell in love with someone else. And it happened when she saw Philippe de Chabot at the English court. She remarked him at the first day when he appeared in front of King Henry in the banqueting hall as the new French ambassador to England. Day by day Mary was watching the French ambassador, feeling that she was more and more fascinated with him. She liked Chabot's remarkable appearance, his French manners, and the resplendent air of gallantry and courtesy around him. Not being the most handsome man at the court, he possessed the dark attractiveness and the undeniable charm which drove the attention of many female courtiers to him. While Thomas Seymour was considered the most brilliant man at the court after the King himself, he didn't have Chabot's French charm and the air of intrigue around him, which magnetized Mary in Chabot. She had never been in France, but her brother, the Earl of Surrey, spent much time in France, even in King François' entourage, and told her many stories about French nobles and the common people, as well as the French court, stating that no other nation had been as beautifully extravagant, naturally courteous, and elegantly passionate as the French were. Mary saw all these qualities in Philippe de Chabot, which fueled her interest in him.

Mary didn't notice how she fell in love with her French idol, dreaming of feeling herself in his arms and of having at least one kiss from his lips. She was overmastered with happiness when Philippe de Chabot began to notice her and made numerous sweet and delicate French compliments to her, dancing with her on the balls and spending some time with her on the banquets. Chabot paid Mary much attention even if they occasionally met in the corridor of the palace, always asking her about her mood and telling her that Mary was one of the most beautiful and intelligent young women he had ever met. Chabot always made a deeper bow to Mary than he did to any other ladies at the court. He smiled at her wider and more often than he did to any other ladies. Inexperienced and young, Mary adored Philippe de Chabot, having an ethereal fantasy of having passionate romance with him. She imagined him to be a gallant white knight able to give her temporary refuge from the life she didn't like due to her family's cold intrigues. She didn't care that Chabot was married and had children in France. She knew that his family was waiting for him in France, but she loved him. She agreed to be his mistress, and their liaison started in September 1537.

Unfortunately, Mary Howard had no guess that Philippe de Chabot was playing with her in a game of seduction and temptation like he was playing with the King of England in a risky game of creating chaotic mess around Thomas Cromwell in England. He didn't love her and took her as his mistress because he needed to have a loyal person who was close to the Duke of Norfolk and to King Henry. Mary was an ideal candidate because she was Norfolk's daughter, Henry FitzRoy's widow, and the closest friend of _Lady Margaret Douglas_, the daughter of _Margaret Tudor, Queen Dowager of Scotland_, from her second marriage to _Archibald Douglas, 6th Earl of Angus_, and King Henry's niece. It was King François' idea that Philippe de Chabot should have found a mistress among the women who were somehow related to the most powerful English courtiers and possibly even to the English King himself. Being a womanizer and was a well-known pleasure-seeker in France, the Admiral eagerly supported the French King's suggestion. In England, Chabot slept with a beautiful French courtesan whom he brought from Paris to London, renting for her a comfortable mansion in the center of London and visiting her at least on a weekly basis. In addition, he often visited several luxurious bordellos with Sir Francis Bryan and several other courtiers. Having a lover at the court was more convenient and more practical than always leaving the palace and going to his kept courtesan, Chabot mused.

Philippe de Chabot watched Mary since the moment King François wrote to him about his plan, thinking that it wouldn't be bad to sleep with the Duke of Norfolk's daughter. Mary didn't possess a ravishing and singular beauty, like Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly's beauty and like Anne Boleyn's magnificent, charismatic, and unforgettable image. Yet, Mary was an attractive young girl, tall and gracious, with soft milk-white skin. Chabot was mesmerized by Mary's beautiful grey-green, almost silver eyes. He liked her heart-shaped face that was framed by her glossy golden hair. He immediately noticed the gentle curve of her full rosy lips and a slender angle of her long neck. She was a lovely creature that had a natural allure that he made him look at her with delight. He knew that he would never love Mary even if she truly loved him because he couldn't love any woman as his heart belonged to the French lady of his dreams – Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, the most cruel-hearted, the most charming, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Chabot was also attracted to Mary by her genuine adoration for him, as well as by the fact that she had been a true virgin when he took her for the first time. An extremely experienced man in the art of pleasure, he liked that he had a chance to teach Mary how to please a man and to receive pleasure herself, thinking that he was making a girl a great favor as many other English noble girls were virtuous and unskillful at the art of love and seduction, marrying men chosen by their families and performing marital duties only to conceive and bear children for their husbands, not for the purpose of physical pleasure.

When King François learned that Mary Howard had become Chabot's mistress, he wasn't pleased because he suspected that Chabot had taken the girl's maidenhead. Although François had a reputation of an arrant libertine and a vainglorious man, he wasn't fond of deflowering young girls and of disgracing them, limiting their opportunities to find a good match among the nobles. François certainly knew that the preservation of maidenhead was much more important for English ladies than for French women. However, the King understood that Chabot had made a practical choice and didn't reprimand the Admiral in a harsh way, only insisting that their love affair must have been carried with excessive caution and kept confidential, even after Chabot's departure to France. The necessity to have a source of valuable information to prove Anne Boleyn's innocence overweighed the King's principle not to deal with virgins. He was ready to take all risks because Mary Howard was exactly what they needed. Like Chabot, François saw such a love affair simply as a device which could bring them interesting information about the court. François wasn't going to tell Anne that their revenge plan hadn't been based on purely honest and moral deeds. François was the King and understood that at times morality was the second thing to practicality.

Philippe de Chabot was lying on the bed, pressing Mary Howard to his chest and slipping his leg over her. He looked down at her and streamed his fingers through her long golden hair. She raised her eyes and stared at him, smiling with a complacent smile. He cupped her cheek in his palm and leaned down to kiss her. Then he traced his mouth along her cheek, to her ear, kissing her tender skin and caressing her body with his arms. Then his lips left hers, and his gaze studied hers.

"Mary," Chabot began. His fingers caressed the back of her neck.

She looked up at him, and he saw warmth in her orbs. "Philippe," she called out his name.

"I am so happy to be here only with you, without all this courtiers who are planning downfalls and self-advancements every day," he whispered as his lips caressed her face.

She laughed as he kissed the tip of her nose. "And away from all other women," she added, a tinge in jealousy in her tone. "Here you are only mine."

"You shouldn't be jealous, _chérie_."

"And what about other women?"

His fingers played along her palm. "Mary, I don't have other lovers at this moment. I was faithful to you." He lied because he visited the French courtesan he kept in London only three days ago.

She stiffened slightly. "And what about the parties you attend with Francis Bryan? I have heard many rumors about your night escapades in brothels."

Chabot feigned shock on his face. "These people are liars. I played cards with Francis Bryan, but nothing more. I don't like simple whores like Sir Francis." And it was true because Francis Bryan was an extreme variant of a lewdster, and Chabot, indeed a womanizer, was far behind Bryan.

Mary smiled. "Oh, I am happy to hear it."

Chabot started trailing down a chain of hot kisses on the skin of throat. "How is your family doing? How is the Duke of Norfolk?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Mary groaned as his lips traced her skin, his kisses touching her heart and making her melt. "Philippe, oh my Lord, Philippe," she murmured. "My father was at Lady Mary Stafford's household. He wanted to take little Arthur from there and bring him to the court."

Chabot kissed her throat. Then he pulled back, looking at her, his face evolving into perfect amusement, an act of sheer pretension. "I find it strange. Why does your father need to bring a bastard boy of two traitors to the court, my lark?" He knew that Arthur was King Henry's son, and his spies regularly reported to him what was going on at Lady Mary Stafford's household.

"Norfolk is scheming again. In reality Anne Boleyn's son is King Henry's son, although the King doesn't believe that he fathered this poor child," Mary replied quietly. "As Queen Jane's son was born with defects, new opportunities arose at the court. The King doesn't have any heirs, while my father is dreaming to have the King of England of the Howard blood. If the King doesn't acknowledge the boy as his heir, my father will use him to establish more power for the Howards at the court."

"Norfolk is an ambitious man."

"My father has an unhealthy obsession for power. He is ready to sacrifice everybody, even his close relatives, to have more power for himself," Mary said, bitterness creeping into her voice.

"I am so sorry, Mary."

"My father planned to marry me to Thomas Seymour when he thought that Queen Jane would give the King a male heir. He wished to have an alliance of power with the Seymours. He didn't care for my happiness and my wishes." She paused, looking into the darkness of the room. "Later my brother suggested that I may become the King's mistress. It is such a scurrilous proposal! I would have never slept with the King! I would have never even agreed to marry him!"

Philippe de Chabot pitied Mary, understanding how painful it was for her to have a father who put his interests, greediness, and ambitions ahead of his own children's happiness. Chabot himself couldn't imagine treating his own children so ruthlessly like the Duke of Norfolk or the Earl of Wiltshire did. "No father has any right to use his children as pawns," he stated.

Mary sighed. "Many fathers gain power through daughters' love affairs. Take Thomas Boleyn and my father. Thomas Boleyn is an ambitious and heartless man who pushed his two daughters into the King's arms to elevate his status. He disinherited his eldest daughter for her marriage for love but beneath her station. Later this man disavowed his youngest daughter and his only surviving son, doing that at the moment when they needed him the most."

He soothed his hand over her shoulder and her breasts, entangling his fingers with her hair spilling there. "Don't think about these sad things now, Mary," he murmured tenderly. "Yet, I understand you that your family is currently in the center of the court intrigues."

"The Howards are always in the hub of the intrigues," she agreed.

His fingers traced over her bosom, and he felt that her body was tingling at his merest touch. He seduced her in a shameless, frank manner. He knew with exquisite clarity how to use his skills of temptation to enthrall her heart, receiving all the information he needed from her. "There are so many rumors that the King will divorce Queen Jane and take a new wife, and Norfolk will surely capitalize on it," he uttered. Then he jumped to the theme that interested him the most. "People also say that the King will launch a new investigation into Anne Boleyn's case."

She nodded, blinking as if emerging from a dream. She was shocked with what happened to Anne Boleyn. She was also puzzled with the recent events around Thomas Cromwell, not knowing that her lover was technically responsible for the turmoil in England. "My father thinks that the King will certainly have to look into my poor cousin's deal again. He said that if the King wished to do that, he would choose my father and Anthony Knivert as investigators."

Chabot smiled. Mary told him many interesting things about the Howards and the Duke of Norfolk. During the last weeks, he was very interested in the names of the people who would be demanded to investigate Anne Boleyn's case for the second time. The pamphlets and the critical book about Thomas Cromwell's role in the English Reformation poisoned the atmosphere of shaky peace in England so much that the King would indubitably have to investigate again in order to ensure the common people's placidity, even if the King himself hated the very thought that Anne Boleyn could have been innocent. The names were all what Chabot needed to know at that moment. He couldn't have influenced Norfolk, but there was also Anthony Knivert. It sounded reasonable that the King would choose Knivert who was a clever and rational man, in the King's favor, and at the same time an independent, uninterested party that gained nothing from the vindication of either Anne Boleyn's innocence or her guilt. King François had already planned how to influence the investigators' opinion on the matter, and now Chabot could proceed to the new stage of the cunning plan designed by his master.

Chabot kissed her hair. "Mary, forget about these trifles. Nothing matters when we are together."

As he was caressing her, shivers cascaded through her body. She closed her eyes, biting her lower lip to resist the urge to say what rushed through her mind. She wanted to say that she loved Philippe de Chabot and that she wanted him to love her, but she kept silent. She guessed that he didn't love her, but it didn't matter. It was enough for her that she loved him.

Mary lifted her head, looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "I want to feel you again," she said earnestly, wrapping her hands around his neck.

"My lark," Chabot whispered raggedly, sighing with raw desire in the sound. He bent his head to kiss her, pulling her deeper into his arms. "_Chérie_, you are such a beauty."

She sighed and pressed close, her heart thudding against his. "Philippe, I will miss you very much when you are back to France."

He drew in a breath, stirred deep. He didn't want to hurt Mary as he liked and respected her. She didn't need to know that he had just used her in his master's political objectives. "Mary, you knew from the beginning that I am married. You knew that I would eventually come back to France."

"Philippe, I blame you for nothing. It was my decision, and I knew what I was doing."

"Everything should be kept in secret. It is necessary for you not to have troubles with your family."

Mary looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration and tenderness. "I know. Nobody will ever learn about our secret. I promise."

"Women are fickle creatures, Mary, but you are a good exception in our unfair cruel world," Chabot said truthfully, in a husky voice. That thought filled him with a poignant sadness as he used her like a tool, being no better than her father. "Thank you, Mary."

Mary moaned as he brought his hand over her breast. "Philippe… Philippe…" Mary whispered.

Chabot kissed Mary, and she kissed him back. She loved him so much, and it was the most sacred feeling for her to be caught in his arms, feeling safe from the Duke of Norfolk's vile intrigues and constant scheming. Their bodies were arousing more and more with every second. He kissed her in her lips until she was breathless, a quivering running through her. Driven by instinctive need, she shifted her hips to take him inside her. Grasps and groans filled the air in the room as lovers renewed their passionate encounter. At the sunrise, Mary left Chabot's chamber and hurried to her rooms, as it always happened to them after their meetings under the cover of the night.

In the early hours of the next morning, Philippe de Chabot awoke in his lonely bed, his lips curved in a delighted smile. He liked his nights with Mary Howard because for him it was like touching innocence after being involved in debauchery with his experienced courtesans. He quickly got up and called for the servant to get dressed, thinking that he should change dark colors of his day attire in order not to irritate the King whose mood swings and the infamous Tudor temper troubles many courtiers during last months.

Dressed in the black brocade doublet with the black leather slashing, the huge amethyst brooch clasped to the high collar, Philippe de Chabot was walking through the corridors of the palace. When he stopped near the Presence Chamber, there were a lot of people around. Chabot requested to have an urgent private audience with King Henry, saying that he had brought a message from King François. In minute he was permitted to enter the chamber. The ambassador saw the King sitting on the throne. He was right that the King would be dressed in the black coloring, which reflected his frame of mind.

Chabot bowed to King Henry and drew a letter from his doublet. The letter was stamped by the Valois royal seal and signed by King François. It was also written personally by the King of France. Chabot handed the parchment to Henry who took it with shaking hands.

"Your Majesty, I am very sorry that much time passed since our last private audience. Unfortunately, I couldn't have told you anything earlier."

King Henry stared at Chabot, his eyes shooting fire. "Your Excellency, is our _brother_ François so busy that it took him more than a month to send his messenger to London?"

"His Majesty King François doesn't accept many visitors now. As I said to Your Majesty before, the correspondence is also limited now at this point. Everything is done to protect our King and our Queen's life," Chabot enlightened.

Henry raised a brow. "Is François still in Piedmont?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Chabot nodded. "My sovereign the King of France is in Turin with our army."

"Do you have any new information about the Queen of France? Who is she?" Henry demanded.

Chabot indeed didn't know. "I don't know, Your Majesty. Everything is kept in secret."

"Secret, secret, secret," King Henry snorted. A cloud crossed over his face. "I am fed up with all these secrets around François and his new wife."

Chabot wanted to laugh into the King's face because the situation entertained him. Then Henry unfolded the parchment and began to read. Blood drained from his face, and he blanched at the words piercing his eyes. He was as pale as a ghost. Then he threw the parchment on the floor.

_Our most beloved brother Henry,_

_Currently, we have to be extremely careful because another powerful lord and sovereign of many lands wished to take my life several months ago. To protect my life and the life of my Queen, we are following the severe regime of confidentiality both in France and everywhere else. We limited the number of people having access to me and to my wife, the Queen of France. Thus, we couldn't personally meet your special Envoy Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk._

_Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion, wrote to me about the current situation in England. Unfortunately, I have no information that these pamphlets were actually issued in France. I admit that it may be a mistake and that somebody else from the lands that are not a part of my kingdom wanted to disturb the peace in England, issuing the scabrous pamphlets in the name of the respected poet working at my court._

_Our gracious brother, I cannot personally look into the matter in the next several months. When God wishes me to come back to France, I will have a chance to give you a more detailed answer._

_King François I of France_

The French King's message clarified nothing, raising new questions. François was either fooling Henry or he indeed didn't have any clue about the situation. His instinct told him that François had been playing hard in a sophisticated game, but he couldn't understand why François was doing that and why he targeted Thomas Cromwell. He didn't believe that the pamphlets hadn't been created and issued in France. Maybe François tried to win more time by sending him a formal letter in the excessively polite style. François also made a hint that the Emperor could have been involved in the matter. Maybe François indeed knew nothing, Henry mused, not understanding who was wrapping him around one's finger – the King of France or the Emperor or somebody else.

Henry dropped the parchment on the floor, tramping it with his feet. Then he stared at Chabot. "François is making strange hints."

"What is Your Majesty meaning?"

"He says that somebody else could have sanctioned the issuance of the materials against my most loyal servant and my chief minister," Henry explained. "Isn't it a hint on the Emperor?"

The ambassador shrugged, almost helplessly. "I don't know."

Henry's aquamarine eyes were piercing Chabot's brown eyes. "I wonder whether you indeed don't know. You are such a powerful man in France, and you don't know."

"Your Majesty, I know nothing more than I am allowed to know as an ambassador whose functions include the formal representation of his native country in a foreign country. As for my power, I may be considered powerful in France, but not in England," Chabot said with a smile.

Henry liked his answer. "I like you, Your Excellency. You are a good and loyal man."

Chabot strangled laugh in his throat. He was very loyal, but not to the official responsibilities of the ambassador. He was weaving the most sophisticated intrigues in England, doing it out of high loyalty to King François, his sovereign and his friend. "Thank you for your compliment."

"You are welcome, Your Excellency. When will François return to France?"

Chabot shrugged in uncertainty. "Your Majesty, I beg my pardon, but I have to give you another uncertain answer." He paused and sighed. "I truly don't know. If Your Majesty wants this, I can contact His Majesty King François and ask him about the date of his return to France." There were no other words he needed to say on that matter.

"I understand absolutely nothing," Henry barked. Then he turned around and walked to the door. He slammed the large vaulted outer door and was gone.

Philippe de Chabot felt as relief washed over him. At least King Henry didn't order him to send another message to King François. Chabot was also confused what was going on as François didn't give him any clue about the matter. He wanted to come back to France because he was fed up with serving at the court where everyone did what the King wanted for favor and where nobody was really safe from the King's wrath and infamous Tudor temper that sent many people to the Tower and then to the execution block. To be able to successfully handle any important job at the English court, a courtier had to employ the most dangerous but the surest weapon – craft, and it was François and Chabot's strategy as well, which so far proved to be very effective.

* * *

**_December 3, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy_**

Anne de Montmorency was confused. He clearly didn't understand what was going on in France. The King of France secretly married a woman who saved him in the church and was injured herself. The King was overprotective of her, not allowing somebody else even to know the name of the Queen. There was something intriguing and captivating in the story of King François' salvation. Montmorency knew the King very well and during many years. The matured King wasn't known to commit rushed, ill-judged decisions. It meant that King François had married that noblewoman with a certain political purpose. Who was that woman? What did that marriage give the King?

Montmorency was appeased that England had internal problems, which prevented King Henry from the consideration of the possibility of an alliance with the Emperor. Like everybody, Montmorency knew that the disfavor of Thomas Cromwell had been provoked by the infamous pamphlets and the critical book written by the leading French poets patronized by the King of France and his sister Marguerite. Did the King of France do that with the strategic aim to eliminate the opportunity of an Anglo-Imperial alliance? Was it somehow connected with the new Queen of France?

Anne de Montmorency was irritated that King François was listening more to the recommendations given by Claude d'Annebault and Cardinal François de Tournon. Montmorency was sober and ambitious by nature. He was one of the very few men who held the great influence over the King in the past years. He had been with the King since before his accession to the throne many years ago. Like it had always been, The King still called him Monty to avoid the embarrassment of his feminine name. Montmorency had fought beside the King in the wars and shared the same games and the same whores in Italian bordellos in their early youth. For his fidelity, he was rewarded with one of the most powerful posts at the French Court – the Marshal of France and the Grand Master of France who supervised the royal household and the King's private service.

Montmorency saw that the King had somehow changed relative to him, although François still trusted him. Most importantly, the King of France changed himself in personal relations because he no longer looked at his long-dated lover Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes, with the same devotion. On the contrary, the King often avoided her and there was no strong emotional proximity between them, like it had been before. What happened to François? Why did the King turn colder to Montmorency? Was the King of France blinded by his revenge to the King of England and to the Holy Roman Emperor? Did these changes result from his new marriage?

Anne de Montmorency longed to talk to his ally and companion Diane de Poitiers who was spending her time with her lover Dauphin Henri in Paris. Throughout many years, Montmorency and Diane de Poitiers were profound intriguers at the French court. They helped each other and appreciated their solid alliance and friendship. If Diane had been in Turin with Dauphin Henri, she and Montmorency would have done everything to learn the name of the French Queen. He had a habit of corresponding with Diane de Poitiers on a regular basis, writing to her about everything what was happening in Piedmont and in Italy. Now he needed her advice, so that he wrote to her again. Montmorency also sent several people in the city of Venice to learn what had happened in the church and who the new Queen of France was.

* * *

**_December 6, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy_**

While Anne was staying in Venice, King François often remembered his wife. And the more he was thinking about her, the more he felt that their marriage meant something more than a pure political alliance. What exactly did he feel for Anne Boleyn?

François wanted to take his revenge on King Henry who supported the Emperor's Italian campaign in 1522-1526. However, he had other instruments to do that – through Anne Boleyn who now was the Queen of France. François didn't plan to start a war with the kingdom of England, only willing to put Henry though humiliation by cornering him. François also needed more loyal England, England without Thomas Cromwell. There were many potential political gains from his marriage to Anne. His plan to dismay Henry was working perfectly well as the situation in England was not far from being chaotic. The pamphlets and the critical book about Thomas Cromwell's role in the Reformation were enough to create great problems for personally for King Henry, possibly resulting in the rebellions against the King and his religious policy.

François helped Anne arrange the downfall of Cromwell because he intended to take his personal revenge on King Henry. With Anne's name cleared, King Henry would be forced to announce to the whole world that Henry had made a great mistake when he cast aside Anne Boleyn. François wanted to show Henry that in their long-awaited rivalry François was more cunning and more intelligent, taking more strategic, well-thought approach to his old conflict and rivalry with Henry. It gave François a personal satisfaction to imagine that Henry would learn how wrong and foolish he was when he listened to Cromwell and murdered Anne. Another source of devilish satisfaction was the imaginary moment when the whole world would know that Anne Boleyn was alive and that she was the Queen of France. Rational and calculating, François knew that Henry would be brought to the very edge of his own sanity when the truth was discovered.

Another reason of King François' actions directed on the downfall of Cromwell was the fact that he truly wanted to help his Anne, the Queen of France. Anne Boleyn was an unconventionally beautiful woman, a woman with the air of charm, grace, enigma, and womanhood around her. It was without saying that her appearance and image attracted men to her, including François himself. Anne was so intelligent, so clever, and so broad-minded that very few other women could be compared with her in the above-mentioned qualities. In the sense of her intelligence and education, Anne Boleyn was a true Renaissance woman. Anne also was a strong-willed, ambitious woman, who was capable of sacrificing many things to achieve a certain degree of greatness for herself and her children. Anne was born to rule and to control. François was sure that if Anne had been born a man, she would have been one of his most prominent advisers. He was eager to listen to her opinion on various matters, including political matters. He valued her opinion and took it into account. Anne and François had much in common and they could become great political allies and rulers. François was proud that Anne was his wife and his Queen, even if not an uncrowned Queen for some time. He admired and adored her. Those thoughts shaped his decision to propose a deal to Anne – their marriage because of mutual political benefit and because of growing attraction to her. Anne was born to be the great Queen Consort in an alliance with the King.

The more time François spent with Anne in the Republic of Venice, the more charmed he was. He liked talking to her. He liked looking at her. He adored her mode of thoughts and her mentality. They shared many interests and avocations. They had much in common in the characters, including ambitions, craving to greatness, craftiness, ability to rule, and great Renaissance intelligence. Finally, François didn't notice that he became more and more dependent on Anne. When he didn't see her, he missed her. He liked spending their time together. He liked their physical contacts, even if there was no great passion in them, like there once was between Anne and Henry. He hoped that passion for him would awake in Anne's heart over time, and he was prepared to wait patiently. François wanted to protect her and to give her peace and a feeling of harmony with her life and with herself.

The news of Anne's pregnancy made François the happiest man in the world, and the only thing he wanted was to hold her near his heart and never let her go. He didn't tell Anne that he would have preferred to have a son with her as their first child as he wanted to spite Henry throwing into Henry's face in a figurative sense that Anne had given him a son while Henry had erroneously considered Anne to be incapable of bearing a son and had failed to sire a healthy son on his third wife, Queen Jane Seymour, as well as on his numerous mistresses. Yet, he knew that the gender of the child was in God's hands, and he would never blame Anne if she gave him a daughter. He would be happy with any child she would give him.

François often remembered Anne, admiring her face and her smile, her blue shimmering eyes that nearly entranced him. He ordered to produce her small portrait that he put in his locket worn on exquisite golden chain on his neck. Somehow Anne's image evolved from an image of his political tool into that of his Queen, his lover, his wife, and the mother of his children. His adoration and respect evolved into a new feeling for him – deep love. François finally confessed to himself that he loved Anne Boleyn. She was probably the only woman whom he had ever loved genuinely.

What should François do now? Should he confess to Anne about his feelings for her? He knew how much she had changed since the tragedy in England and her escape from there. François doubted that Anne would welcome his love with open arms and with open heart. As he realized that he loved her, he wanted his affection to be returned, but he also comprehended that it could happen only over time. He needed to be patient, probably for a long, long time, before Anne would be ready to see that she could trust him and love him and return his affection. He couldn't tell her about his true feelings. It was too early for him to do that.

* * *

**_December 7, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy_**

Anne de Pisseleu, Duchess d'Étampes, was waiting for the King of France in the reception room. She rose to her feet from the large wooden armchair and walked slowly toward the mirror that hung near the fireplace. She pinched her cheeks to fill them with their own natural blush. She casually tugged at the stiff décolletage of her sweeping red gown with the low neckline and the jeweled front. She was standing near the mirror for several minutes, as if to reassure herself of her beauty. She smiled to her own reflection. The knock at the door brought an even larger smile as she was waiting for King François.

As François entered, Anne de Pisseleu smiled at him warmly. He looked at her with a smile and walked casually toward the fireplace. He settled in the armchair and stretched his legs on the floor.

"François!" Duchess d'Étampes cried out. "I am so happy to see you, _mon amour_!"

The King of France bowed to her. "I have come because your lady-in-waiting passed to me your note." His tone was formal, his eyes alien.

Anne put her hand to her mouth so she would not scream. She was shocked that he had come because she asked him, not because he wanted to come. "Your Majesty, I thought that we can spend some time together." She decided to speak in an official tone. "I think that you are working too much." She came closer to him, from the back, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Anne, please sit down there." François showed by his hand on the adjacent armchair. "What did you want me to discuss so urgently?"

Duchess d'Étampes stepped backwards. She felt rage simmering in her blood. The King distanced himself from her, and it was because of her, his wife. She was jealous and offended, not able to suppress her feelings. "François, you are thinking about your new wife? I know that she is carrying your child and that you care for your child, but you shouldn't ignore the reality." She raised her voice. "Your wife may be using you. You don't know her. You just met her in Venice."

François rose to his feet. "It is enough, Madame," he warned curtly. His voice was abrupt and sharp. He glanced at the near-dead embers filled the fireplace. "You should return to France. There are too many unnecessary people in Piedmont," he said stringently.

Duchess d'Étampes also leapt to her feet. He was intending to be straightforward. "I would eagerly return to France if I knew that your Queen loves you as much as I love you. But I fear that you won't be happy with her as much as we were happy together." She raised her voice higher. "Don't you see that she must be using you for her purposes?"

François sighed heavily. "Anne, I don't want to talk about this."

"I cannot give this woman the man whom I adore and worship the most in my life," Duchess d'Étampes declared. "I don't even know who she is." She trailed off. "François, I love you so much!"

The King of France emitted another sigh. He didn't move, although he knew that she was waiting for his reaction to her warm declaration. He couldn't tell her that he loved her because he didn't. He realized that he hadn't loved her. They spent much time together in Turin in the past months under the same roof and he didn't want to sleep with her and perceived her only as his friend.

"Madame, never refer to the Queen of France as this woman or using similar avuncular forms of addressing," the King reproached sternly.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty," she snapped, not meaning it.

"Anne, you should be reasonable," he said in a persuasive tone. "It will be better if you leave Turin and Italy." It was a hard task for him to maneuver between his rejection of her and his unwillingness to hurt her. "Leave Piedmont and Italy," he repeated.

While Anne de Pisseleu and François were talking, another Anne, Queen Anne of France, was ascending up a grand staircase. She was accompanied by Jacques de la Brosse and several guards. They had to use several corridors with dim light in order to walk to the destination and remained unnoticed by others. They crossed the hall with a high ceiling and went down the paneled corridor, shoe heels clicking across the intricate tile floor in the vast echoing silence. The lime-washed walls they passed were lined with massive tapestries and torchlight that flickered in the dim light of early evening as they neared the reception room in the east wing of the grand castle.

"Madame," François said to acknowledge his intention to leave. When she didn't reply, he bowed, linking his hands loosely behind him and ready to leave the room.

Anne de Pisseleu felt that she was defeated by the unknown woman. It was so humiliating for her. She hated the new Queen of France at that moment. She struggled in vain to retain her composure. Her François was slipping from her. "Your Majesty," she murmured.

François turned around to face her, his brows arched in silent question. Anne de Pisseleu knew that he wanted to leave, but she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to struggle for her love.

A shadow rose behind them and froze at the doorway. As Queen Anne saw François and another woman, the tremor in her knees she felt at seeing them rocked her overwhelmingly. She didn't expect to see François with a woman. The Queen guessed who the female companion of her husband was – the notorious Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly. As the Queen listened to them, Anne de Pisseleu's high voice gradually faded into a muffled, incomprehensible sound. Her attention focused on François who was standing magnificently with his back to her. As she overheard how he asked Anne de Pisseleu to leave the court, she was confused.

"Good evening," Queen Anne said calmly. Her voice resonated like the sound of a bell through the vaulted stone. "I am sorry for intruding."

King François swung around as he was standing his back to the door. Duchess d'Étampes stood frozen in abashment. As King François turned to Queen Anne, their eyes met from across the room.

Queen Anne of France fell into a deep and reverent curtsy before the King of France.

King François smiled benevolently, with velvety, dazzling smile. His amber eyes grew bright now with the recognition of Anne Boleyn, his wife. He smiled and bowed to her.

Queen Anne stood rooted near the door. She was the breathtaking image of the Goddess in her tight royal blue gown with the medium-length train and the low square-cut neckline, and the air silk sleeves. The collar and the cuffs of her sleeves were faced with sable. François noticed that the design of gown was loose to hide her expanding waistline. Her head was adorned by the hood edged in gold, with light blue, hardly transparent veil streaming down her face. The veil was clasped to the hood. Striving not to be recognized, she covered her face in the fashion of the German Protestant states.

The Queen's eyes scanned King François' appearance. As usual, he was dressed extravagantly and with great luxury and taste. He looked as a powerful monarch in every inch. He was wearing the pale green velvet doublet with gold slashes over the emerald silk padded shirt with gold embroidery around the edges. The doublet was encrusted with jewels and ornamented with the sable. His long muscular legs were enveloped by the tight emerald knee breeches buttoned up front and laced up back with laced calves. On his head was the plumed black velvet flat hat studded with two large square rubies and equipped with the grosgrain ribbon around the brim.

Queen Anne smiled under the veil. "Your Majesty, will you introduce me to this Madame?" Her voice was soft and melodic. It was entertaining that she saw the face of the King's mistress while the mistress was guessing how she looked like and who she was.

Without any introduction Anne de Pisseleu knew who the woman in front of her was. Thus, she sank into deep curtsy before the Queen in advance. The woman in front of Duchess d'Étampes was her main rival and the woman who robbed her of the King's love. She had his legal wife, a wife in the eyes of God. The mistress pretended not to watch, but out of the corner of her eye she could see that François' eyes were shining as he looked at the Queen of France. She didn't have any doubts that her François loved the Queen.

The King marched to the Queen. He took her hands in his and kissed each of them. He turned to face Anne de Pisseleu. "Madame d'Étampes, let me introduce my wife, Queen Anne of France." His gaze drifted to his wife. "Anne, this is Madame Anne Jeanne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, Duchess d'Étampes."

Anne de Pisseleu and Queen Anne studied one another like two prowling cats as they played at civility. They both were experienced courtiers and knew how to hold themselves.

Duchess d'Étampes curtsied. "Your Majesty, I am honored to meet you," he said sweetly.

"And so am I," Queen Anne answered.

Queen Anne was ready to laugh at the ridiculous situation. She finally met the infamous blonde-haired beauty, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, the King's maîtresse en titre for more than ten years. She knew that François had many mistresses in the past, one of them her own sister Mary. In general, it wasn't astonishing that his mistress was staying with him in Turin. At the same time, there was some awkwardness in the situation as the Queen entered the room right in the moment when King François was talking to his mistress. Queen Anne wondered whether he had just set her aside and why he had done it. But did it really matter? She arrived in Turin to perform the part of their deal – to be seen as the Queen of France with the King of France, letting him introduce the alive fairy-tale of the King's _savior_ to his soldiers and to the common people. Nothing else should interest her. Nothing else mattered as long as they were good political allies.

"Madame d'Étampes is departing to France tomorrow," the King said formally. He couldn't behave otherwise in front of his Anne. He wasn't pleased that now these two Anne were face to face with each other. He didn't need Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly to be here. He recommended her several times to leave Turin, but she stayed, despite his formal pleas. Now he repented that he didn't remove Anne de Pisseleu from Turin earlier.

Queen Anne smiled under the veil. "Madame d'Étampes, His Majesty and I wish to welcome you here if you decide to stay. If you leave, we hope that your journey will be a pleasant one."

Duchess d'Étampes smiled. "Your Majesty, thank you for your good wishes." She curtsied before the royal couple. "Your Majesty, if you don't mind, I would want to retire now."

François bowed. "Madame d'Étampes, we wish you to have a good night."

As Duchess d'Étampes left the room, Queen Anne and King François were left alone. A small silence hung over them when each of them was contemplating how to proceed to the conversation.

"Your Majesty," the Queen began. She made a deep curtsey to the King of France. She knew that her curtsey was one of the deepest and the most graceful the courtiers had ever made. Everybody had noticed that curtsey in Anne Boleyn's performance.

François stepped closer to her. He didn't want her to curtsey to him when she pregnant. "Anne, please immediately rise. I don't want you to curtsey to me in your condition and in an informal environment," he insisted.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she replied steadily, albeit a little amazed with his care. King Henry never cared for small trifles like deep curtseys when she was pregnant as the Queen of England.

He led her to the armchair and helped her to sit herself comfortably there. Then he raised her veil and looked into her blue eyes. "Anne, how did you come here?" he asked. "Jacques de la Brosse didn't send me a notice. And Count Jean de Montreuil must be furious that you left Venice."

Queen Anne smiled at King François. "Your Majesty, it was I who initiated the trip. Please don't blame Monsieur de la Brosse as he was a wonderful companion for me throughout the past months. You are right that Monsieur Jean was displeased, but I persuaded him to let me go."

François looked at her, tenderness in his eyes. "How are you feeling, Anne? How was the trip?"

"The trip was fine. Monsieur de la Brosse arranged everything. He also managed to take me inside the castle in the way that nobody noticed it," she replied.

"Well, given the events in England, I think we won't need to keep our secret soon."

The Queen glared at him. "Your Majesty, I must express my sincere gratitude for what you have done for me," she purred. She cast a grateful glance at him.

"Anne, I have done it for you with pleasure." François laughed an easy laugh and reached out to touch her cheek. "You really are quite an exceptional woman, Anne. I am glad that you are here."

Anne smiled at him. "I came here to fulfill my part of our deal. The people should see the King and the Queen together before the battles after the New Year." Her voice was cold and confident. "I didn't forget that we are political allies."

François smiled, whilst seeing her cold eyes and the chilly air around her. "Thank you, Anne."

* * *

**_Night of December 7, 1537, Castello di Rivoli, Province Turin, Piedmont, the Duchy of Savoy_**

Queen Anne was placed in the bedchamber adjacent to King François' own chambers. François' trusted servant and her maids she brought from Venice helped her occupy the rooms. It was unknown so far in the palace that she had arrived there. Anne found her rooms to be soothing to her. The chamber was decorated in the Renaissance style. The walls were hung with light yellow and lavender brocade. At the center of the bedchamber was a large mahogany bed covered in yellow tapestry. Along one of the walls, there was a collection of ivory tapestried couches and delicately carved gilded chairs. All of them were placed on large Italian carpets. There were tables inlaid with marble and tortoise. They were covered with silver bowls, candlesticks and flagons of wine.

As François entered the room, he saw Anne was standing near her bed. She wore only her tight white silk nightgown. As the nightgown tightly enveloped her body, François noticed the changes in her slender figure as his gaze fixed on her belly swollen with his child. Warmth imparted into his heart and soul. He hurried to Anne and helped her put herself into the bed.

François sat on the edge of the bed. "What is it, Anne?" he asked as his gaze stopped on a pill of parchments on her bedside table.

Anne raised her head and looked at him. "Poems in English," she replied.

"Read them for me, if you want," he offered.

Anne was astonished as they had never talked in English since they met in Italy. "In English?"

He raised a brow. "Why not? We are alone here."

"I will do as Your Majesty wishes," Anne replied in an official tone. She started reading the poem that attracted her attention. "It is Sir Thomas Wyatt's poem. He used to be a poet at the court."

François smiled. "Go on, Anne."

_Farewell, Love, and all thy laws for ever:_

_Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more._

_Senec and Plato call me from thy lore,_

_To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavour._

_In blind error when I did persever,_

_Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,_

_Hath taught me to set in trifles no store,_

_And scape forth, since liberty is lever._

_Therefore farewell, go trouble younger hearts,_

_And in me claim no more authority;_

_With idle youth go use thy property,_

_And thereon spend thy many brittle darts._

_For, hitherto though I've lost my time,_

_Me lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb._

"I think that it is a poem in your honor," the King asserted in English, his brows raised in anticipation.

"Maybe." Anne also spoke in English, imitating the King. She was scared. She didn't want François to know that she had an affair with the English poet. She didn't want to tell him that she had fooled Henry that she had been a virtuous girl when he had taken her "innocence". It was her secret forever.

François looked at his wife, slightly narrowing his eyes. "Anne, Sir Thomas Wyatt wrote this poem in your honor, after your supposed death. My ambassador informed me that Thomas Wyatt was your admirer and that he dedicated many poems to you." His voice was calm and silken. Yet, something flickered in his eyes that darned for a second, and Anne noticed that.

Her heart was beating violently in her chest. "Thomas Wyatt is a poet and admires many women."

The amber eyes twinkled. A strange smile hovered over his lips. "Sir Thomas Wyatt was also arrested at the order of King Henry and imprisoned in the Tower of London for allegedly committing adultery with you, Anne Boleyn." He paused. "Why didn't Henry execute him?"

Anne forced herself not to betray her fear. Her face was a face of a marble statue, her mimics was frozen. It took her a great deal of effort to control her behavior. She looked into François' eyes and spoke. "Thomas Wyatt was released from the Tower thanks to his family's friendship with Thomas Cromwell. I don't know whether he returned to his duties at the court."

François shook his head. "My spies reported that Thomas Wyatt is currently not in favor at the court. Now he is at Allington Castle."

François' questions about Thomas Wyatt were like a disaster. Anne was really scared that François would ever learn about her affair with Thomas Wyatt. Their amourette was her greatest mistake; it was a short affair that finished a long time ago. If François learned about that, it would mean that he would probably stop trusting her and that they would collide. Moreover, the King of France could start thinking that Anne could have deceived him of something important. They formed a bond of friendship, and she hankered to keep it safe from destruction.

Anne decided to warn his question. She looked right into his eyes, her own eyes blazed with challenge. "Your Majesty, I can see where you are going with your questions and hints." She had to stay calm. She drew a deep breath and went on. "I swear on the lives of my children with King Henry and on the life of our unborn child that I never betrayed King Henry with any other man when we were married and during our courtship." She crossed herself and put a hand on her stomach. Indeed, she said the truth because she had never been unfaithful to King Henry, since the moment when she had realized how serious Henry's intentions to her had been and that she had loved him.

François glanced into her shimmering blue eyes and saw that she said the truth. Undoubtedly, she didn't lie – he was already able to distinguish when she lied and when she said the truth. Yet, he had a feeling that there was something romantic between Anne and Thomas Wyatt. He wouldn't press her. What was in the past was in the past. He didn't care whether Anne was a virgin or not when King Henry took her in his bed for the first time. Yet, he cared whether she was fully frank and honest with him or not. He didn't want to live in the dark shadows of the past or to be deceived by her.

"I believe you that you never betrayed Henry with other men," he said sincerely.

She smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty." A feeling of relief washed over her.

A smile disappeared from his face. "Anne, if there is something I don't know about your arrest and imprisonment, you must tell me about it," the King half suggested, half obliged her. "I am honest with you, and I won't tolerate lies in our marriage. If there is something that I don't know and if it can somehow harm us in our marriage, you should tell me about it by yourself. If you ever lie to me in something really serious, you will see me from a new, unpleasant side, and I would never want it to happen. I want you to remember this warning." His voice was calm and low, without any notes of danger and threat, but the message had an undoubted meaning.

Anne was unnerved by his words that were a clear warning for her. She had a sudden impulse to tell him the truth, but she didn't' dare to open her secret to him, at least not now. Anyway, her affair with Thomas Wyatt wasn't related to her arrest and imprisonment – it was a long time ago, before Henry's courtship and before her ultimate arrest.

She smiled. "Your Majesty, I told you the whole story about my arrest and imprisonment."At least she didn't lie that she told him the wholly story about her arrest and the trumped-up charges against her. Indeed, if François had been more direct and asked her whether she had slept with Wyatt before her courtship by King Henry, she wouldn't have lied to him because she couldn't find moral strength to deny that. Yet, some things might remain unsaid, she mused.

"Very well," François replied shortly. He placed his hand on her abdomen. His eyes warmed up. "Will we have a girl or a boy? How do you think?" His amber eyes were taking in her beauty. Her skin was smooth, her eyes large, almond-shaped, and blue, and her shape well-curved and slim.

Anne shrugged. It was an unusual question for her. Henry wanted only sons with her, and for him every pregnancy meant hope for a son. François had male heirs, and she didn't know whom he wanted. "Whom do you prefer to have?"

François laughed. "I believe that we cannot determine the gender of a child. It is God's will." He trailed off and stared at her as her face depicted astonishment. He laughed at her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I will be happy to have a girl who is as beautiful and intelligent as you are. If it is a boy, I will also be happy."

Anne smiled with an innocent smile. It was new and strange for her that François didn't mind having a girl, but it was truly amazing. "I want to have just a healthy child." And it was true.

François nodded. "Probably, now for political alliances a daughter would be preferable," he added.

"Yes, we are good political allies," she said with a smile.

François sighed heavily. "Do you see anything else?" he cautiously asked. He drew his fingers though her curls tumbling down her back and shoulders, an unruly raven wave.

Anne was silent and blinked in response. "Your Majesty?" She didn't know what he meant.

François took her hands in his ones and kissed each of them, then held her right hand near his lips. "There is something. It is a matter of the heart. It is intertwined with the power and politics, as though power and love might be neighbors." He hinted her on his feelings as he wasn't sure that it would be good to tell her everything in a straightforward manner. He wasn't sure that she would appreciate his confession. He knew that her heart was closed after the horror of her marriage to Henry. If he wanted to do something with it, he would have to melt ice in her heart over time.

"Your Majesty, what in Heaven's name do you mean by that?"

François laughed quietly and cupped her face. "Anne, I believe the greatest sin against God is to be false. If one is not true to oneself, then it is impossible to be true to God. You should understand your heart." He said that because he had also struggled to realize that he had fallen in love with her. He also said that because he was sure that she was utterly confused in her new life. With displeasure, he also suspected that at times she was living in the past. "And then you can be following your heart, provided that it doesn't torment you," he opined. The hint was on Henry Tudor whose love was destructive and tormenting, if it could be called love.

Anne only blinked in response. Then François kissed Anne gently in her lips. It was the tenderest kiss she had ever shared with the King of France.

* * *

**_I would like to take this opportunity and thank the readers who subscribed and favourited this story in that short period of time since I started writing._**

**_Thank you to everybody who supported me when my story was plagiarized. I truly hope it will never happen again._**

**_I must thank my beta reader WritingHeiress for great help._**

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Please be aware that the first two scenes (the scene about Arthur's birthday and the scene about François with his generals in Italy) will be removed to the previous chapter as I will re-arrange the text in the previous chapters, some of which are much shorter than others. I will do it as soon as you read this chapter – in several weeks. This chapter is the ONLY chapter of such large size._

_I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter. The headline of the chapter reflects its main theme – the love triangle of Anne Boleyn, King François, and Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly. At last, François realizes that he loves Anne, and it is a great step forward._

_This chapter is sodden with crazy jealousy, sharp conflict between lovers, and rising tension. There will be many dramatic moments between Anne Boleyn, King François, and Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly. You also noticed François's warning about lies in their marriage as they are talking about Thomas Wyatt. The affair with Wyatt will play its role, but much-much later. _

_Actually, in this story we have several love triangles: Anne Boleyn, King François, and King Henry; Anne Boleyn, King François, and Anne de Pisseleu; Anne de Pisseleu, François, and Philippe de Chabot; and Anne Boleyn, King Henry, and Jane Seymour. The most important triangle is Anne Boleyn, François, and Henry._

_Anne de Pisseleu isn't going to leave François to be happy with Anne. As you can easily guess, she will be a source of many troubles for François and Anne. She will continue struggling for her favor with the King of France, and her methods will be very crafty._

_Please don't reprimand me that François had broken his marriage vows to Anne and slept with Anne de Pisseleu when he was drunk. I am not portraying François as an ideal man, which is showed in his scenes with Anne de Pisseleu and which is also proved by the fact that François doesn't use honorable methods to achieve what he wants (the case with Chabot's mistress Mary Howard). _

_Chabot has to weave intrigues to prove Anne's innocence, and he takes a mistress just to have information. I know that it is cruel, but it is life. The information about Mary Howard's marriage to Henry FitzRoy is historically correct. In addition, the Duke of Norfolk indeed planned to marry Mary to Thomas Seymour in 1538 and the 1540s, but she fiercely opposed the idea. The Earl of Surrey persuaded Mary to become the KIng's mistress in the middle of the 1540s. In this story, Norfolk's manipulations take place a little earlier. Who knows, maybe Norfolk terrorized his daughter much earlier than the 1540s. I took liberty to portray Mary Howard's image since we have only unclear sketch of Mary Howard made by Hans Holbein the Younger._

_I hope you liked the interaction between Thomas Seymour, Charles Brandon, and King Henry. As many of you predicted, they failed their diplomatic missions and were punished by Henry._

_What is your favorite part in the chapter? Nothing?_

_Any thoughts about Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly? Do you like her in this story?_

_In reality Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly is described as the beautiful, intelligent, and cruel woman who smiled sweetly but easily stabbed into the backs of people whom she treated well a week ago. However, looking at Anne de Pisseleu's portraits, I cannot call her the most beautiful woman of her time. __Compare the portraits of Anne de Pisseleu and Diane de Poitiers. __I like Diane de Poitiers much more as her facial features are more expressive, classical, and memorable. But a portrait doesn't necessarily represent a person as though in real life._

_Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly wasn't faithful to her royal lover, having affairs even with his friends. My ancestor, Count de X and the minor courtier at King François I's court, wrote a lot in his memoirs about Anne's love affairs with Jacques de Montgomery, seigneur de Lorges; Charles de Cossé, Count de Brissac; and Philippe de Chabot, Admiral de Brion. King François loved her too much and pretended that he hadn't known about Anne's affairs. At the same time, my ancestor claims that King François had never known that Anne de Pisseleu had betrayed him with Philippe de Chabot, stating that if the King had ever learnt about Chabot's amorous deeds with his beloved Anne, he would have been very angry and removed both Chabot and Anne de Pisseleu from favor. I also read Anne de Montmorency's memoirs I found at the National Library of France, and Montmorency wrote that Anne de Pisseleu had seduced Chabot in order to "de prendre sa revanche sur les infidélités du roi" (to take her revenge for the King's infidelities). I don't remember Montmorency's exact words. Jacques de Montgomery had been courting Diane de Poitiers before she became Dauphin Henri's mistress. It is also possible that someone of them wasn't right – we will never know._

_Next chapter, Chapter 10, is about Anne's appearance in Turin and departure to France. In Chapter 11, we have important events about Henry and Cromwell, a fateful moment for Henry. Be aware that the revenge is very detailed and will take many chapters. If you hate Cromwell and want see Henry's despair, you will enjoy._

_If such a scenario of Anne Boleyn's salvation took place in real life as it is in this story, King Henry would be unlikely to learn about Anne's salvation BEFORE the revenge is completed, which means that many chapters are ahead of a game in blind. Actually, I like the game in blind. There will be moment when Henry learns the truth, and if you like the moments of despair, you will like this chapter. _

_The disclosure of Anne Boleyn's name by François to Anne de Pisseleu is a first step of Anne's introduction to the courtiers. Knowledge of the name doesn't mean knowledge of the true identity since the truth is too outrageous to believe. Anne's appearance with the veil on her face is indeed a pattern of the German Protestant fashion. Recall Anne of Cleves in the show. I checked it, and in some sources it is written that covering the woman's face with the veil from the bridegroom and on some other occasions was normal in Germany in the Middle Ages. _

_One of the fans of my story about Anne Boleyn made the wonderful photo album for the heroes. The link is given on my profile. This person wished to stay anonymous, for whatever reason, and I respect this wish. I heartily thank you for wonderful photos._

**_Please don't be lazy to leave a review. Reviews are always encouraged and appreciated, including criticism, provided that it is well grounded. Thank you in advance. Reviews greatly help create episodes, like your reviews helped me create the scene between Thomas Seymour, Charles Brandon, and King Henry. That's why I love reviews. _**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. The beta reader and I could have missed something because the chapter is long. For example, I noticed that at times I tend to name King Henry's son with Jane Edward instead of Richard: I am making it involuntary and mechanically because in real history the boy was named Edward. I have already amended the name in this chapter. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs._


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